


Something So Cold It Burns

by commanderlexacoon



Category: Aladdin (2019)
Genre: Anger, Angst, F/M, New countries, OC, Romance, Sexual Tension, Tension, Unresolved Tension, War, aladdin kinda doesn’t like marriage and wants to explore, anyways lots depictions of gore, hes a big fucking CRYBABY, jafar and jasmine bicker a lot, jafar is far less evil than he wants himself to be, jasmines smart, marwans quote ab jafar loving jasmine heavily inspired this fic okay, not the happiest ending, some smut at the end, supernatural shit, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-05-14 08:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19269445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commanderlexacoon/pseuds/commanderlexacoon
Summary: Sultana Jasmine has had a peaceful reign in Agrabah for a year now. Her kingdom has been thriving, Aladdin is her vizier, her family has never been happier, and she’s finally proven herself to all whom have underestimated her. All was at peace, that is, until a devastating attack from the neighboring country of Shirabad leaves her kingdom in ruins. They are forced with a choice, combine the kingdom with with the now treacherous Shirabad, where Jasmine must denounce her title, or risk the extinction of Agrabah’s kingdom with her forces destroyed. Despite the obvious choice, Jasmine decides to make the most challenging, riskiest, and emotional choice of her life to seek help elsewhere and, along the way, finds solace in an old, calculating enemy: Jafar.





	1. Playlist

**_ Something _ ** **_ So Cold It Burns _ **

_**\-----------** _

_i. **scars -** boy epic_

 

_ii. **hollow crown -** ellie goulding_

 

_iii. **speechless -** naomi scott_

 

_iv. **far from home (the raven) -** sam tinnesz_

 

_v. **freeze you out** **-** sia_

 

_vi. **my love will never die -** ag ft. claire wyndham_

 

_vii. **winter’s song -** tommee profitt ft. fleurie_

 

_viii. **jenny of oldstones -** florence and the machine_

 

_ix. **another love -** tom odell_

 

_x. **someone you loved -** lewis capaldi_

 

_xi. **radioactive -** koda_


	2. The Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine prepares for the anniversary of her and Aladdin’s marriage. Yet after a cryptic message from her new attendant and an argument with the Sultan of Shirabad turns the should-be night of wonders into night of terrors.

The Sultana grasped and folded at her laced, aquamarine gown. The gold specks caught the evening’s sun-glow like a mousetrap from the balcony in her room, and she was reminded of the very last time she had worn the gown.

 

Her lips curling into a serene smile, the memories of her and Aladdin soaring through the bustling Arabian night’s only a year ago never ceased to make her happy.

 

Her smile widened, as today she most likely was to experience it again. Because tonight, the most magnificent of nights, was the anniversary of her and Aladdin’s marriage.

 

The sudden nudge of Raja’s nose against her free hand brought Jasmine’s attention to her loving cat.

 

Even he seemed to understand her frivolous excitement, purring loudly with his amber cat-eyes as alive as she was.

 

“Tonight’s the night, Raja. Everything will be perfect,” she whispered dreamily. It had to be, right?

 

The kingdom’s been flourishing, she’s gained more political allies and forged new friends that have come from numerous other kingdoms.

 

From the northern kingdoms of the English to the western from the walls of Great China, Agrabah hasn’t suffered from the hands of tyrants not once in her reign.

 

Her father has been quite content now that his crown has passed down to her, and Jasmine felt that she could finally enjoy the times of her late youth with her family before she reached the age of 26 in the later months of winter.

 

And yet, something still jilted her in the very bottom of her lively heart.

 

Something...bitter.

 

Her smile faded and her eyes fell away from her orange cat, and Raja seemed to notice straight away.

 

He yowled, displeased by her halting the scratching behind his ears and pawed softly at her arms. Jasmine shook her head and forced a soft smile. “I’m sorry, Raja, I just feel...worried.”

 

Which was the truth, as her love Aladdin certainly wasn’t known for being the most cooperative husband, or the grand vizier she had named him many moons ago.

 

He was almost always late to political meetings, he spent days or nights aimlessly exploring the hills of Agrabah, and he would never talk to her as anything more than just his Sultana, not as a husband.

 

She would never be one to beg him for anything, and yet, she had craved to just once work up the courage to communicate with him about their relationship.

 

It’s true, Jasmine will admit, that when she did marry Aladdin that she hardly knew the real heart behind the charm. Yet, out of all the men that have had to aimlessly capture her heart, or money, he seemed like the best choice.

 

He appeared kind and charismatic on the outside, but the Sultana was wrong to assume his lust for adventure wasn’t strong enough to come between them.

 

And she was finally seeing what she had always feared: not being enough for him.

 

But today had to be different. It was their wedding anniversary, for crying out loud.

 

Aladdin may love adventure, but he’d been rambling about this grand celebration for months! Months! He wouldn’t forget it, he couldn’t-

 

A sudden knock at the door drew Jasmine’s attention away from her horrible thoughts.

 

“Enter,” the Sultana commanded sternly, arising from her chamber bench. A small, humbled elderly woman entered with her grand crown resting on a satin, blue pillow.

 

She was new, a suitable replacement for Dalia as her main attendant, but she always seemed to speak in mindless riddles.

 

Jasmine found them intriguing; however, despite her husband and father’s obvious distaste towards. Her name was Nah’la, and she had probably been in Agrabah since the beginning of her father’s rule.

 

“It is near time,” Nah’la whispered as she laid the crown softly on Jasmine’s dark, braided hair.

 

Jasmine giggled and shook her head. “The party doesn’t start until the moon is in the sky, Nah’la. The sun hasn’t rested yet.”

 

Nah’la turned Jasmine’s chin to look her in the eye. “It is near time,” Nah’la repeated once more, causing Jasmine’s smile to drop and Raja to growl in discomfort.

 

Nah’la eyes were about as dark as midnight, yet something strange twinkled in them this evening.

 

Her thin lips pursed into a blankless line, and Jasmine furrowed her brow in confusion.

 

Was this another riddle? Of course it had to be, that’s all she enjoyed talking about.

 

“It is near time, a flower’s venom does not come from one alone,” Nah’la cackled disturbingly. Jasmine, despite loving her riddles, was deeply concerned now as she never truly spoke more than just a few words in her riddles.

 

Nevertheless, would she laugh like a manic prophet either. “Nah’la, I’m not sure I understand,” Jasmine chuckled nervously. Nah’la’s face went blank, and she glared at Jasmine, a truly horrifying sight. “Sultana, you’d be wrong to dismiss myself for the last time.”

 

Jasmine’s jaw dropped and she shook her head slowly. “I...I would never! I’ve always paid attention to what you and my other advisors have-“

 

Suddenly, Nah’la lets out a frustrated screech. “No! You must listen! Try, my dear Sultana, try!” She begged her ardently.

 

Jasmine’s eyes widened at the old woman, as Nah’la’s frantic stature melted into a serenely disturbing calm.

 

Her mouth twisted from a mountainous frown to a toothless grin. “You will listen, Sultana. Thank the old gods that you will.”

 

Jasmine felt her breath caught in her throat, as she had never been this terrified since Jafar-

 

“Ah…” Nah’la groaned in satisfaction. “Jafar! So you have finally begun to listen!”

 

Jasmine, feeling hot tears well in her brown eyes, shook her head. “I think you need to leave,” she whispered angrily. That name was forbidden in her kingdom, and it’s power could reopen too many wounds for many.

 

She hadn’t tried to think about...him...for so long, and she wouldn’t let this nonsense talk ruin her anniversary. She wouldn’t give him the unspoken satisfaction. Not now, not ever.

 

Nah’la’s smile widened, and she backed slowly away from the Sultana and out the door.

 

Jasmine’s jaw clenched and Raja’s growl deepened as Nah’la hobbled out the door, her muttering of Jafar’s name the only thing to be heard in the silence.

 

Jasmine’s fist unclenched and she took a big breath, thankful her previous worries of Aladdin’s attendance overcame her once again.

 

It was perk near for the guards to escort her to the celebration, and Jasmine was blissful in the thought that she’d forget about ever hearing _his_ name for the first time in a year.

 

It deserved to stay buried, right?

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

It had been an hour. A whole hour since the celebration began, and Aladdin was nowhere to be seen. She should’ve known. How could she, the one who knew Aladdin more than anyone else in the entire palace, had underestimated him once again?

 

And his absence didn’t go without notice to the guests of the palace either. There was an undermining and disturbing silence that plagued the room for the last hour as they all awaited the grand vizier Aladdin.

 

Jasmine could feel the tears welling like earlier, only this time, she couldn’t let go of their chains. She couldn’t cry in front of her people, the last thing they would need to see is her marital problems of all things.

 

Shakily inhaling, she felt a calloused hand enclose on hers resting on the golden table. Looking up startled, Jasmine saw her father, his sympathetically ancient eyes offering slight comfort.

 

“He will be here soon, Sultana,” her father whispered. “Your mother was never the earliest, either. But it doesn’t mean she loved me any less.”

 

‘But mother still at least tried to make time for us, Aladdin does the opposite,’ Jasmine wanted to say, but she only nodded her head and broke away from his stare.

 

One word out of her mouth would allow the dam to break, so she remained quiet and tried to maintain her stature in front of her people once again.

 

Skimming the crowd in mild hope, she was unsurprised to find her husband nowhere.

 

The Sultana was about in mid decision on whether she was to call off the celebration, until the Sultan of Shirabad a few seats down had interrupted her thoughts.

 

“On behalf of Shirabad’s people, we request to know where the grand vizier is. We are a bit on a schedule, your grace,” he spat, his piercingly coal black eyes striking Sultana Jasmine down. Agrabah wasn’t the only country that has undergone drastic changes within the past year.

 

Shirabad, suspiciously around the same time of Jasmine’s own coronation, had become under the new rule of promised prince Hasib, son of the previous Sultan, who had died of elderly age just a few months after his usurp.

 

Hasib wasn’t the most attractive of men as far as Jasmine saw. In fact, it was a wonder he even had a wife at all.

 

“He will be here soon, your highness,” Jasmine responded, biting back the amount of spite she wanted him to feel.

 

“Perhaps you should have kept a better watch on him, your grace,” Hasib offered, a menacing twinkle in his eyes.

 

“He doesn’t need my authority to be responsible.” Jasmine glared, feeling her father’s hand wrap hard around hers as a sign to simmer down.

 

But she knew Hasib wasn’t done just yet. In fact, he had been waiting all night to take a sharp knife of insults and slice her throat with it. And she wasn’t going to sit quietly and let him butcher her…

 

“Doesn’t her? He is very inexperienced to having such a high position. Perhaps you should’ve taken that into consideration before wasting our-“

 

“Wasting your time? I can assure you, your time will not be wasted. And you are right, he is inexperienced, which means he is still learning. You see, the grand vizier actually strives to become better equipped in his position. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him.”

 

Now that, was when the rope had finally been cut. Murmuring of discomfort, especially from the Shirabad section, arose like the crashing of ocean waves, retreating and growing.

 

Hasib’s mouth was hung upon in shock, his eyes livid with rage. “I beg your utmost pardon, your grace?” He hissed, seething with rage.

 

Jasmine could sense her father’s disappointment float over to her like a putrid aroma, but it was too late to turn back now. Hasib knew Jasmine’s state, and this wasn’t the first time she and Hasib were about to engage in a bloodbath of insults before.

 

Yet, only this time, did her rage spring free. And this time, Aladdin nor her father had her back and instead had her hands, tying them behind her and preventing her from feeling her rightful empowerment.

 

“Speaking of the grand vizier, your grace, you have yet to tell us how he arose to his position in the first place,” Hasib hissed back, setting both of them up to be stricken down once again.

 

“Enlighten us, why don’t you, on your husband’s triumphant story, while we await his arrival.”

 

Jasmine knew she was in trouble, as Hasib had not only set her marriage up for the slaughter, but almost beckoned her to tell that story from just a year ago. That bloody story, which would involve her mentioning-

 

“I am afraid that is far too inappropriate for this table, your highness,” her father growled, coming to her aid. She felt the corner of her lips almost twist into a smile, until Hasib continued, unbothered.

 

“I highly doubt it would be inappropriate, as it’s just a simple tale, isn’t it? Unless…”

 

“Unless…” her father questioned with a menace she hasn’t seen since a year ago.

 

“Well of course, if the rumors are true, that you picked a scum from the streets, with no political experience whatsoever as your highest ranking official. But that’s not possibly true, is it?”

 

Jasmine’s heart was racing, the rhythmic thumping so loud she swore he heard it as his grin deepened.

 

She wasn’t ashamed of Aladdin, but deep down she wondered if assigning him the highest position was truly from the mind, or from the heart.

 

And if she were to confirm these speculations, these horrible truths to the country and neighboring countries outside Agrabah, and given the evidence of Aladdin’s inexperience and absence, he would be reprimanded of his position.

 

He’d think she saw him as nothing but a street rat, despite the truth being that he simply is too inexperienced for his job and doesn’t seem to want it. Truly, she couldn’t hurt him like Hasib wanted.

 

She couldn’t embarrass him, despite him embarrassing her in front of numerous countries and their own Agrabah. Sultana Jasmine wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

 

“May I ask how your marriage is doing, now on that delicate topic? It seems that you married the princess of the eastern countries in hopes for military power. Yet, Shirabad still falls short in the shadow of Agrabah…”

 

Jasmine felt her father’s hand grip hers, pleading for her to not make things turn tremulous. Yet she ignored him, the sound of her blood pumping drowning out any other warning sign that could be whispering or screaming in her ears.

 

“...And despite the military tactic not being of much use, you are still married, no? Shouldn’t you, of all people your highness, understand that now would be the time to remarry? To further Shirabad’s not-so secretive scheme?”

 

“What are you getting at, your grace?” Hasib shouted angrily, allowing for more discomfort and unsettlement from the guests and guards to drift through the air.

 

Hasib’s wife, who in her own way was partially offended, had a look of understanding in her twinkling eyes that Jasmine took more of.

 

The poor woman may have not appreciated being sold off by her own country, but she would do anything to return.

 

Hasib most likely used her, and Jasmine more than anyone knew what it felt like to be tossed around and used for the sake of men. “What I am getting at is how you have stayed with your current wife for obvious, promiscuous reasons, instead of-“

 

“Enough!” Her father exclaimed, his eyes on fire with anger to the both of them. “Instead of bickering like two, inexperienced children, you should have just remained silent as we were to await the Sultana’s husband. The celebration is over, as it is too far into the moon’s travels to be wallowing.”

 

Jasmine’s jaw had dropped in pure surprise and anger.

 

‘He had the nerve to tell me to stay silent, despite being the reason Agrabah was flourishing and the reason why Aladdin and my reputation was not to be questioned,’ Jasmine thought, her blood boiling even harder.

 

The whole palace was devoid of any breath or blink for a few minutes, even from Hasib.

 

Everyone was surprised at the former Sultan’s outburst, yet to Jasmine’s anger, they seemed to silently respect and admire him in those few seconds than they were for her. Even worse, they began to clap. Clap! As if he had just tamed a wild beast!

 

Jasmine’s fists clenched in anger as she slumped to her seat, feeling the remaining gazes on her turn either sour or with pity on how “childish” she might have acted.

 

She knew she was rash, but she wasn’t embarrassed of defending Aladdin, even if by now he didn’t seem to deserve it, and herself, despite what her father or Hasib would want to think.

 

After the hideous applause faltered, everyone slowly rose from their seats. Jasmine herself only felt the slightest of shame.

 

But, knowing how this could lead to a potential war knowing Hasib’s irrationality, she had to grudgingly apologize. She would only let her honor down for the people she cared for, and that included the country of Agrabah.

 

“I would like to apologize for my accusations, your highness.” Jasmine shamefully declared as she approached the Sultan. Hasib’s anger diminished into reeling smugness, making Jasmine’s insides twist with rage. “On behalf of Shirabad, we will consider your apology for your behavior tonight.”

 

Despite her urge to knock the remaining teeth from his imperfectly disturbing smile, she instead gave her sweetest chuckle. “I appreciate that, your highness. Thank you.”

 

Hasib’s smugness grew as the guards escorted him and his wife to the royal caravans of Shirabad, and she had never been more glad to see a celebration’s death in many moons.

 

As the remaining guests left on their caravans, Jasmine could feel her father’s disappointed eyes on her back once again. Instead of bothering to accept his harsh criticism, she decided that she was to be excused without any further notice.

 

The tears were becoming too much to handle before she could reach her chambers, allowing them to fall with a sigh of relief was the first time she truly felt free that night.

 

Just like she had feared, the night was a disaster. Everyone that could have went wrong dove deeper into hellish proportions than she ever guessed was possible. And worst of all? Aladdin would’ve had her back, but he wasn’t there.

 

He wasn’t just late, he never arrived. And not only did she have his skin, she still wanted to give him another chance.

Another chance to become a better vizier, if not for the people, than at least for her. The hard truth to be accepted was that the Sultana wasn’t even sure he’d do that much for her…

 

“Jasmine?” A familiar voice interrupted her slumber. She must’ve cried herself to sleep on the balcony bench, Raja at her heels asleep as well. Jasmine frowned deeply, not ready to face the man she felt most betrayed by that night.

 

“I’d like to be left alone, Aladdin,” she growled, a stray pair of tears escaping her eyes.

 

“Jasmine, I can explain-”

 

“Please, Aladdin, I’d like to be left alone out here,” she demanded once more through painfully gritted teeth.

 

Sensing his own heartbreak was additional grief for her to mourn, and she wanted nothing more than to undo what happened that night.

 

But perhaps, in a way, it was an eye-opening experience.

 

Maybe things needed to change, and if she wasn’t going to change them, who would?

 

Wiping away two more tears, she heard the faint footsteps of Aladdin’s shoes amble away from her, allowing her to drift into the combination of starlight and vibrant city lights, which ironically have seemed to be faded with color now themselves...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is the first chapter to like, execute all of the problems that need to be resurfaced for jasmine. just sort of an exposition i guess, but it’ll start getting more plot oriented on the next chapters! thanks for reading! i apologize for broken english or typos!! :)


	3. The Flower and the Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days later, Jasmine and Aladdin deal with their failing marriage. Yet something else has been bothering the Sultana, as she continuously tries to figure out what Nah’la meant by her riddle...or who.

Two days.

 

It’s been two days since she had spoken to her husband. Her grand vizier. Her Aladdin. 

 

And how did he spend that time? Begging her in a seemingly perpetual round of cat and mouse to speak with him. 

 

What broke her heart most is that he only gave her the sun’s time when she ignored him, not when she didn’t react. 

 

Jasmine bit her lip until the silver taste of blood was distracting her too much from her internal argument. 

 

She laid in a fetal position across their ivory-colored silk sheets, letting the rays of the noon sun cradle her. 

 

Her eyes began to feel heavy, yet she struggled to remain awake for the sake of pulling through. Nah’la had requested that the Sultana was to rest today, for she was becoming ill. 

 

The actual truth; however, was Jasmine’s explicit tiredness due from sleeping on the bench of her balcony. It may have seemed inexplicably petty, but Jasmine couldn’t sleep in the same bed with him.

 

Not right now, not until she sorted through her emotions and felt able enough to talk. This was the last straw for Aladdin. And for once, for the first fucking time, she felt proud at how she was placing herself first.

 

A loud purr drew Jasmine’s attention Raja’s amber eyes staring at her from the edge of her bed. She knew what he wanted, causing Jasmine to smile weakly and pat the bed for him to lay beside her. 

 

“Hello, my darling,” Jasmine cooed softly to the all-to large cat shifting the bed to one side when he flopped down. 

 

Giggling, Jasmine wrapped her arms around her Raja and sighed. “At least I have one friend who understands me,” she whispered. Raja mewed in agreement, kneading the sheets while he did. ‘At least that was Aladdin’s side,’ Jasmine thought with a coy smirk. 

 

With the combination of Raja’s warm fur on one side and the sun caressing her back on the other side, Jasmine wasn’t able to resist sleep’s grasp…

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“Jasmine!” Aladdin exclaimed, softly judging her arm. “Jasmine, I really think we need to talk.” 

 

Jasmine opened her eyes sleepily, seeing the face of her ashamed husband only inches away. 

 

Bolting up immediately, Jasmine noticed that Raja had left and the time of day had completely switched to inky black darkness.

 

She shook her head in aggravation, rejecting Aladdin’s touch as he tried to caress her face. “I...I…” Jasmine tried to begin, but her heart was pounding too hard for her to form even the slightest, comprehensible sentence. 

 

Staring at her shaking hands, she felt two hot tears paint her cheeks. “Shh...it’s okay. I’m here,” Aladdin whispered, genuine pain capitalizing every word. 

 

Jasmine shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut in an effort to not release a blood-curdling scream in whatever ungodly hour it was. “But you weren’t. You hardly ever are…” she trailed, anger seething into her words. 

 

Aladdin’s eyes dropped in shame, but not as much as Jasmine hoped for him to feel.

 

Drawing her lips into a repressed line, the Sultana stared unblinkingly at her grand vizier, in hopes to find the truth somewhere in his eyes. “Why?” She demanded. “Why?”

 

Aladdin, who’s eyes were welling with tears themselves, shakily exhaled. “It’s...it’s hard to explain. I’ve tried to do this for you.”

 

Jasmine felt a surprising mixture of relief and sadness fill her heart. “Your position?”

 

“It’s hard, all this stuff I’ve never dealt with and suddenly, I’m supposed to help you run the kingdom-”

 

“Why didn’t you just say something instead of running away? You could have told me!” Jasmine exclaimed, feeling her own smile of relief form. 

 

And yet, Aladdin wasn’t smiling. He was avoiding her eyes once again, filling her with dread and panic. Something was nagging her about his reaction, perhaps a truth she didn’t want to face. She was sure for one moment the only reason of his avoidance was their differing views on politics, but it’s falling deeper, darker. 

 

Her hands kneading numbly at her vibrant magenta dress she so uncomfortably fell asleep in. Her breath was so hitched that the only audible sound was his breathing becoming incredibly shaky, and it was driving her absolutely mad. 

 

“You know what, we can uh...work this out,” Jasmine said, unmistakably terrified. Aladdin furrowed his brow and dryly laughed. “I know you understand, Jasmine. What it’s like-”

 

“Aladdin-”

 

“-to be trapped and confused in a place where one step ahead you’ll hurt someone, and one step backwards will make them hate you. I know you don’t want to talk about this, or avoid it, but I can’t keep covering it up,” he whispered, his hands falling to hers. 

 

Jasmine shook her head, tears blurring together the picture like spilled paints. “This...this is all happening too fast. We’ve finally got on the same realm of understanding, let’s not be too hasty…”

 

“Damn it, Jasmine!” Aladdin bursted, standing up. Jasmine drew back after this startling outburst. “I’ve already been working this out, on my own! Just like you!”

 

“No! That’s the thing, to work out a relationship, you need to talk! You can’t just make decisions and-and leave!” Jasmine shouted, awakening Raja from the corner of the room he laid. Aladdin ran his fingers through his raven black curls, his teeth gritted.

 

“I wasn’t ready! I wasn’t ready for this, any of it! I just wanted you, but you’re too preoccupied-”

 

“ _I’m_ preoccupied?” Jasmine demanded incredulously. “As if you weren’t almost every single time I try to make time for us, especially a few nights ago-”

 

“I don’t think you get it, Jasmine. I don’t care about parties, or alliances, or dances. I want to see the world with you! Escape this place, this damn place that’s treated us both like scum!” He exclaimed, prompting Jasmine to hop out of her bed with Raja immediately at her heels in aid. 

 

“Agrabah is my home, and my people! I can’t abandon it, and I tried to give you a new life for both of us!” 

 

“This life isn’t any different! If anything, I feel more abandoned than I ever did in the streets! I loved you, Jasmine! Or at least I was sure I did! But I feel trapped here, alone! That’s why I leave, to places where I finally feel free! We’re too different! You just can’t admit it!” 

 

Jasmine stood there, incredibly shocked at the revelation she had been afraid of hearing the entire time. He no longer loved her, he felt alone because of her, and he didn’t want to stay with her. 

 

Aladdin was heaving with heavy breaths and tears, but Jasmine almost the complete opposite. Instead, she was posterized and eerily calm.

 

She felt her heart split, but not entirely because of Aladdin’s declaration, but because of her inability to accept it earlier.

 

Instead, the Sultana allowed herself to push away the pain of betrayal, the pain of being abandoned, and the pain of hurting someone she clearly, despite the circumstances, cared for. 

 

“Then leave.” Jasmine offered, surprised at the own calmness in her voice.

 

“What? You actually want me to leave?” Aladdin said with a dry, incredulous chuckle.

 

“I want you to go somewhere you don’t feel alone, and clearly that isn’t here,” Jasmine concluded, feeling the beginning of more tears with every silent, ticking minute,

 

“...Alright then,” Aladdin muttered, nodding slowly. She could tell that he was just as amazed as she was that they finally, and heart-wrenchingly, dissolved a year’s worth of issues. 

 

It couldn’t be over, could it? This was her nightmare’s inspiration for months, and suddenly it was all over within the span of a few days?

 

No. It couldn’t, despite the revelations there were still more steps to reach before relief sank in. 

 

This was only the first step.

 

“In a few days, I shall have a caravan escort you in peace to wherever you want to leave too,” Jasmine offered, right as Aladdin was reaching her bedroom door. “That would be nice, Sultana , I…” Aladdin trailed, searching the ground in a loss of words.

 

“I wanted to give you at least one thing, before I leave, if that’s alright,” he whispered.

 

Jasmine felt an inner panic at this, tears choking her very breath.

 

“It is,” Jasmine murmured.

 

Out of his pocket, Aladdin unraveled a ruby crested viper pedant, which made Jasmine draw a terrified breath.

 

‘A flower’s venom does not come from one alone,’ Nah’la’s words echoed through her head.

 

“I bought it while on a trip to great China, a present for the anniversary. Not that it would make up for the way I-” Aladdin began, before Jasmine perplexedly interrupted. 

 

“The gift is wonderful. But I think you need to leave, Aladdin,” Jasmine said, terrified.

 

Did he know?

 

Did Nah’la put him up to this?

 

Or was it a sign of how mad with wonder and terror she had felt in the past few days from her message?

 

This had to be connected, but something told her she should fear what it was entwined with.

 

“Alright…” Aladdin said, confused yet not up to the emotional challenge of arguing against her. 

 

He handed her the necklace, allowing the brutally cold golden chain to fall like a brick in her hand. She studied the pedant, the viper’s fangs and intricate scales striking fear in every area of her mind.

 

In fact, she was so entranced and horrified of the serpent, she hardly noticed Aladdin leave as her heart’s pumping drowned out any other noise. 

 

She shook her head at all the negative thoughts clouding her mind, her tears splashing against the viper as if it were crying as well. 

 

In a fit of anger, Jasmine launched the pedant across the room, causing Raja to hiss at the sudden cling as he pounced after it. 

 

Running a finger through a loose strand of her black hair, she collapsed on the bed, feeling the pressure from all her pent up emotions fall short in the presence of her now, horrifying thoughts rock her to sleep like a brutal lullaby.

 

This was about him, it had to be.

 

This was about Jafar.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

_Everything was white in the place she was in. Filled with echoing and endless walls, entrapping her yet at the same time, freeing her._

_Jasmine was barefoot, dressed in white herself, the cold air felt like a relief from barbaric heat. The cool, marble stone felt like ice beneath her feet, and she hesitantly began to walk in an ominous path laid out for her._

_‘This had to be a dream,’ she thought, fog dancing around her legs like clouds. She couldn’t possibly be dead, could she? No, this wasn’t the flowering gardens of Janna she wished to see since she was a little girl._

_This was something else all too real, or physical._

_Jasmine began to feel the texture of her marble world turn to moist soil beneath her feet, frightening the Sultana as she felt she might’ve reached Janna itself._

_Yet instead of flowering gardens, the fog lifted to an abandoned temple._

_Inside the temple sat an ominously runed pedestal, carved with stories of myth from her childhood stories. Yet it was what was on top of the pedestal that frightened her the most._

_A single lamp with the same, crimson designs shined in an untraceable light on the mystical pedestal. Jasmine wanted to turn back, to scream and pinch herself awake, yet she couldn’t resist._

_It was calling her, she could hear the strained voice beckon her closer._

_“Go on, set him free. Do it, Sultana. You will be rewarded grandly and spared…”_

_“Spared,” Jasmine repeated, entranced. She shamefully could feel her hand reaching for the treacherous lamp, yet it seemed to grow farther with every inch she took._

_“Spared, spared, spared,” the lamp sang in choirs of godliness. Jasmine smiled, her fingers caressing the metallic base._

_Spared…_

“Jasmine…”

_Spared._

“Jasmine.”

_Spared._

“Jasmine!”

 

The Sultana awoke to her father and guards shaking her frantically, their eyes wide with pure terror. “We need to go to the vaults, now!”

 

An explosion from outside her room agreed, and Jasmine hopped to her feet in sheer anger. “What the hell happened?” She demanded, feeling the guards shoving her practically out the door.

 

“Baba, what happened?” The Sultana demanded, feeling Raja immediately prance to her side as they marched. 

 

And yet, they needed not answer her questions, for she could see clearly in the first wake of morning sun: Shirabad’s flag flying menacingly from the ship’s that have raided the docks as more cannons blasted.

 

Jasmine gulped as she continued to walk, and aside from all of the most confusingly recent things that have plagued her mind, she felt extremely sure about one thing…

 

Shirabad had attacked.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so if you couldn’t tell this story will have three conflicts: mortal conflict and immortal conflict. jasmine and jafar come right in between those as the romantic conflict. i swear it will all make sense in further chapters but for now, i hope y’all liked it! i apologized for broken english or anything seeming misplaced!! :)


	4. You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sultan Hasib of Shirabad has offered Jasmine a choice: surrender her kingdom to him or the rest of the innocents that survived will be slaughtered. Jasmine is pleaded by her father and Aladdin that surrender would be best, but Jasmine has another idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so slight tw for brief mentions of bodily injuries, drowning, and a brief panic attack towards the end. just want everyone to stay safe within their own boundaries! hope y’all enjoy!!

__The hours passed like years in the vault.

 

Only a select few of the palace’s residents even came close to reaching the stronghold, and what had happened only moments before the doors closed will forever haunt her:

 

Screaming people, guards who had fallen behind, and even little children were running and hobbling as fast as they could to the doors.

 

And yet, with the next run of death-packed cannons hurtling towards aimlessly to demolish any lifeform in its path, all that could be done was to shut them away.

 

Jasmine had pleaded for their doors to remain open as long as they could risk, yet it wasn’t enough.

 

It never would be enough.

 

Half of Agrabah taken unprepared by Shirabad’s elite and specialize cannons meant total destruction at least within the next hour.

 

And it was.

 

Jasmine swore her heart and vision had become unresponsive for about half of the time in the vault, as the screaming and smell of molten flesh nearly drove her over the edge a few times.

 

Had she had fainted?

 

I didn’t matter now, as now her, Aladdin, and her father stood in chains before the monstrous tyrant that was Hasib, Sultan of Shirabad.

 

Jasmine, along with her friends and family, had been stripped of their crowns and intricate jewels. Her dress was no longer the bright magenta, and much like Agrabah, it had lost its vibrant hope down within it.

 

Hasib, dressed in traditional deep blue and black for Shirabad, was the dimming and contrasting cloud, an iron bowl, over a candle. And Jasmine hated him, so much more than she ever thought possible to hate someone. This was all a game to him, and it was most likely her fault.

 

She insulted him and underestimated his drastic lengths he was incredibly known for taking.

 

And now Agrabah, the once shining beacon for everything colorful and bright, was lost.

 

On the brink of extinction, all within a matter of a few hours. Hours! Jasmine could’ve stopped it, if she had only done something sooner.

 

Jasmine felt the next round of tears waterfall down her soot-stained cheeks. The air reeked of burnt wood, flesh, and fire.

 

The Sultana couldn’t bare to look over at her father and Aladdin, who had been the first to be chained when the Shirabad militia broke down the vault doors. They were ashamed of her, she could feel it like an airborne disease.

 

She let her emotions get the better of her, and now look at them! Prisoners, her, her family, even Raja in chains, for Hasib’s delight, despite his apparent “goal” what he made clear that was “not to start a war” and that only Jasmine had that power. And under her terrifying realizing, she understood what he meant.

 

“Greetings, people of Agrabah,” Hasib barked from the now nearly destroyed bridge of the palace where they stood.

 

The remaining people or Agrabah in the streets were either a mixture of scared or angered, and the select few that could see Jasmine gave her looks of pity or betrayal.

 

“You, the surviving few, are given a chance at a new life. A promise, from Shirabad to you under our most gracious of fathers, Mot, king of the old, abandoned home of death and power.”

 

Jasmine felt her eyes widen instinctually. ‘Mot? One of the Old Gods? He had to be delusional, what was he thinking?’ She thought incredulously.

 

She never took Hasib for a religious zealot, but it would explain how his rule had never been threatened despite his obvious treachery and wickedness.

 

“He has promised me, a messenger of his good graces, great kingdoms and power. Bow down to Shirabad and his highness, Mot! All you have to do is convince your gracious Sultana, to hand over your kingdom to me and you shall all remain free. All she has to do is accept....”

 

Jasmine’s jaw clenched as she rocked in anger and fear at his monotone words of victory.

 

The people murmured amongst themselves, and Jasmine herself looked to her father in some sort of plea for help. Her father wouldn’t spare her a glance, nor would Aladdin.

 

She was on her own in this decision.

 

Hasib then turned to her, his horrifying black eyes picking her apart as he smiled devilishly, holding out his hand. “...In marriage.”

 

Her jaw dropped in surprise. Everyone around her shifted uncomfortably. Raja, who had been chained with a muzzle and guards assigned to his side, thrashed and growled. She knew what Hasib was planning, and what he had done. Most likely, he had either sent off or killed his previous wife, and now this was his best scheme of torturing Jasmine in penance for her insults. Who knows what he would do to her, given how the other wife was treated when she was on his good side...

 

And in the midst of her decision, Jasmine’s lips pursed at a familiar memory.

 

The last time this had happened was a year ago. But this was different. The damage had come before the negotiation. Jafar himself was power-hungry, yes. But not even Jafar, as much as it pained her to realize and see him a better light, was too much of a coward to go through with his threats. Hasib, on the other hand, despite the princely epitome of a harsh dictator, would take every chance that Jafar had failed at.

 

So the Sultana took his hand after a moment of brief hesitation, considering all that was at stake. Yet, what she did next made those around her falter and gasp. And Hasib, most of all, was the least bit pleased.

 

“I will not take your hand in marriage.”

 

This brought back similar memories to her and Jafar’s wedding, didn’t it? Only at her previous refusal did a magical flying carpet with a charming boy aid her in escaping. This time, there was no charming boy or carpet, but something more untamable to be reckoned with: herself.

 

“I’m not sure I understand you right, woman,” Hasib growled viciously under his breath at her refusal. She turned to her father and Aladdin shakily, both infuriated heavily by her choice, her father mostly. Eyeing the ground, she repeated herself, this time to the people of Agrabah.

 

“I do not take Hasib of Shirabad’s hand in marriage. We will stand on this soil as our own, until the very last bone remains. I will not hand over my country to anyone, and especially,” Jasmine turned to Hasib with a vicious glare. “Not to you.”

 

Hasib’s nose scrunched in anger, and he grabbed her arm, eliciting a ferocious growl from Raja and gasp from Aladdin. “I will give you,” he snarled. Jasmine looked away, not bearing to stare into the soulless eyes of his. Whilst doing so, she noticed Aladdin behind the guards, slowly undoing the shackles that bound him.

 

He had a plan.

 

“One more chance. If you still don’t accept, all of your people will become slaves and forced into labor for the good of Mot and Shirabad. I ask you again, Jasmine, do you accept?”

 

Jasmine felt her throat dry up as she tried not to draw attention to Aladdin’s obvious attempt at escaping. Instead, she felt a hideous compulsion herself. A twinge of ferocity, like the night she insulted him the first time.

 

“We both know very well that either way, you were forcing my people into labor, Hasib. All that’s at stake here is my life, not theirs. You see, you need them.”

 

‘Almost there, hurry Aladdin!’

 

“You need them to build your ships and cannons, your armory and weapons. My life is of no use to you. Might as well sow your own doll, why don’t you? You see, it’s very pathetic actually,” Jasmine chuckled darkly. “Pretending to be a Sultan all for a nonexistent god’s rewardence? Ha! You’re running scared.”

 

‘That caused a reaction from the crowd, and Hasib. Just a little longer…’

 

“At least I could accept myself as my own, not thanks to a supposed god. Who’s to say that, because of your cowardice that’s become strikingly clear to the people of Agrabah, they revolt? Who wants a ruler who’s so vulnerable to a wisp of air?”

 

Hasib, fuming with anger, almost interrupted her, but she wasn’t finished. Especially not now.

 

‘...almost-’

 

“There’s the primary difference between us. I bow to no one.”

 

Click, click, click! Aladdin surprised the guard in front of him with a headlock, taking his spear and slashing off one of the guard’s hands that held Raja.

 

With the imbalance of chains around the tiger, he was able to fling them down and shake the chained muzzle off his nose.

 

Jasmine, instinctually bolted away from Hasib with Aladdin, Raja not far behind them. The crowd of her people erupted into complete chaos.

 

Some were screaming, others were revolting, taking a lot of the guards by surprise but not enough to prevent a militia sect from chasing after her.

 

“Where will we go?” She shouted at Aladdin as they ran. He took her hand and led her through a steep incline between the palace walls and the wall from the sea. “This way!” He ordered, not too far behind.

 

Despite the circumstances, Jasmine couldn’t help but smile. The adrenaline reminded her of when she first met Aladdin, the chase and frolic of it all feeling all too familiar, yet oddly fun.

 

As they reached the top of the wall, Aladdin managed to slash a few rum barrels that laid dormant on the climb up, buying them time to devise a plan.

 

“What’s...the plan?” Jasmine asked, severely out of breath. Aladdin nods and stares towards the sea, a playful smile on his face.

 

“You jump.”

 

“You mean we jump?”

 

“No,” he turned to her, cupping her face and hushed his voice to a serene, yet serious tone. “You jump, Jasmine.”

 

She shook her head vigorously and furrowed her brow, hearing the sound of guards getting back to her feet prompting an urgency in her voice. “No, we do this together! You have to come with me!”

 

“You need time to escape, not me. It’s time for your adventure now,” he smirked.

 

Tears began to well in her eyes, as this could very well be the last time she saw the man she still cared most for.

 

Pulling him into a tight, heartbreaking hug, Jasmine let out a guttural groan of dismay. “I will see you again. I promise, Aladdin. This isn’t goodbye.”

 

Aladdin pulled away and smiled charmingly. “I believe that…” he trailed as his smile faded. With the blink of an eye, she felt him push her over the edge.

 

The sight she saw before plunging into the turquoise waves was Aladdin being smacked on the head with a rock, that was probably meant for her.

 

Before she could even scream, the painful rigid ness of ocean waves cradled her body and salt stung her eyes.

 

Jasmine was free.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

One, two, three…

 

A little longer.

 

Four, five, six…

 

Just a little more.

 

Seven, eight, nine…

 

She was there. After hours of walking along the coastline and abandoning her vibrant dress and jewels in the sea, Jasmine had reached the outskirts from Agrabah to the Great Desert.

 

It was all that she could do to force the awful thoughts of Aladdin’s abduction from her mind. She had shed so many tears as she choked and struggled for life from the crashing waves, any normal person would have drifted and drowned.

 

But Aladdin, whatever happened, it would all be for naught if she let go. She couldn’t let that happen.

 

And still, second guessing plagued her mind like illness, bringing out her own worst regrets that she should’ve stayed. Yet if she had, what more would have changed? Aladdin and her father surely wouldn’t have survived. The people wouldn’t have revolted, which at the very least could have at least done some good in the chaos.

 

No, Jasmine did the right thing.

 

She was going to get help, and it was an insane task. Perilous, even. But whilst she was in the sea, she swore she had another vision. Or at least, heard a voice…

 

_“I apologize for my dedicant, Sultana. He should have let you go in peace.”_

_Humming and buzzing killed her head as sea water filled her lungs._

_“I am not quite finished with you yet. I have you exactly where I want you. I’ve seen what you shall do, and it pleases me greatly.”_

 

...And as if by supernaturally preposterous means, the water escaped her lungs in a blink and she rose above the waves, gasping for the sweetest air.

 

Now here she was, still reeling from the visitations she’s experienced all within a day’s span. It...it couldn’t be Mot, the god Hisab claimed to be subservient to? No, they were just myths…

 

...and yet, so were sorcerers, genies, flying carpets, and witches to her until a year earlier. Maybe...just maybe...the gods were real too?

 

No. She couldn’t accept that much. The fact that there were beings of supposed love and joy, wasting away in a type of afterlife while horrid things like Jafar’s change, Hisab’s attack, even her own mother’s terrible death happened?

 

No.

 

Jasmine refuses to believe that. And if they were, she still kept her words to Hasib to be true.

 

She served, nor bowed, to no one.

 

“Woman, are you looking for something?” A female voice interrupted her thoughts as she trailed through the scorching sand, about a few feet from the entrance to Agrabah. Pausing in her tracks, she felt a wash of terror fall over her every limb.

 

But instead, to her surprise, it wasn’t a guard that had seen her. It was a woman, not even a few years older than Jasmine, with two little sons hidden beneath her cloak. She had the most vibrant red hair Jasmine had seen, with dark brown eyes to adorn her olive skin.

 

“Are you one of the ones who made it out before the attack also?” She asked in a slightly more hushed tone. Now Jasmine hated lying so blatantly, but the words spilled from her mouth before she had time to think.

 

“I am. I-I jumped off the wall into the sea when I saw them coming,” Jasmine murmured, gaining the woman’s sympathy.

 

“Come with us, our caravan is waiting just around the corner to take us to the Northlands of Arabia.”

 

Jasmine furrowed her brow. “Caravan…?”

 

Turning over her shoulder, the Sultana saw something that broke her heart once again. A tight packed tent with probably seven children or so inside with a single group of camels to lead it.

 

All because she had insulted Hasib.

 

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Jasmine sheepishly said, feeling the strong guilt of her indirect actions.

 

The woman put a hand on her sand-scraped shoulder, shaking her head. “You won’t be. You need to come with us, it’s the only way away from this place.”

 

Jasmine bit her lip and finally nodded, still remembering her internal promise she made for her people and her country. This woman and her family were her people, and she would not let them down another time...

 

Even if it killed her.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“Miss! Please wake up!”

 

Almost immediately, Jasmine bolted upright and felt her heart race. Her breathing began to quicken and she felt her throat tighten around a scream. “What’s going on? Did they attack again? Where am I?” She screamed.

 

“No! Hush, hush, we mustn’t wake my brother!” A small voice who belonged to a boy spoke to her.

 

As she calmed down, Jasmine could now see her surroundings much more clearly. There she lay, in her corset and mangled black hair, amongst children and a mother on a caravan tent. She watched them squirm and groan, as her screaming must’ve woken them from slumber.

 

Nevertheless, the Sultana let out a heaving sigh of relief. She was away from Agrabah. She had escaped when Hasib attacked. She found the caravan and the Agraban woman. Now, here she was with the caravan, awake in the ungodly night hours while everyone has stopped to slumber until dawn. She was going to find allied countries of Agrabah to help stop Shirabad.

 

‘It’s okay, you’re okay. Just calm down,’ Jasmine thought to herself, chuckling slightly at her reaction.

 

“I guess you could say I had a nightmare, little one. I’m sorry to have woken you.”

 

The boy shrugged and folded his arms. “Nah, I was just waking you so I could finally sleep where you were.”

 

Jasmine’s eyes widened in embarrassment. “Oh, I’m...sorry-”

 

The little child began to laugh, and for a split moment, Jasmine felt weightless from her sorrow.

 

She loved children the most out of her people. Her and Aladdin had tried, but sadly, they weren’t lucky enough to be blessed with such a gracious gift. And those would wonder why she didn’t bother believing in the lying and hypocritical old gods…

 

“Don’t worry, Sultana, I was only joking. My name is Sanath, and I’m not much of a sharer, but you can sleep there as long as you like!”

 

Jasmine could’ve sworn her heart skipped and beat and her stomach lurched. How did he-

 

“Your foot thing. That’s the pretty blue jewel my mom says the Sultana likes to wear!” He exclaimed. Jasmine checked her ankle immediately, and the child was right.

 

She forgot to dispose of her turquoise crested anklet that her mother had made for her as a child. She sighed and unbraided the ties, noticing little Sanath watching her in awe.

 

“My mother gave it to me. It was a very special reminder of her before she went away…” Jasmine trailed, hiding the pain in her voice. She handed the child the anklet, and couldn’t help but smile at his awestruck expression.

 

“Where did your mother go, Sultana?” He asked quietly as he examined, and her smile faded. “She um...she went to a garden.”

 

“A garden?”

 

“Yes! A beautiful garden! A place for good people. A place where no one gets hurt.”

 

The little boy beamed excitedly now. “Is that where we are going, Sultana?”

 

Jasmine paused, debating on how she were to approach such an unapproachable question. So, as her mother used to, she told the child what her mother told her.

 

“We’re going somewhere like it. You see, in order to enter the garden, you need to find the key!”

 

“A key?”

 

“A key. You’ll find it somewhere through your life.Just keep your eyes open,” Jasmine replied. Sanath suddenly brightened up; however, and grabbed her hand. “I think I might’ve found it, Sultana!”

 

‘What?’

 

Jasmine frowned, not expecting his answer to be anything of the sort of what he just told her. Hopping out of the caravan with Jasmine by his side, he trudged through the sand towards a small, gleaming object under the moon’s bright light.

 

“Sanath, what have you found? And why did you leave your mother’s caravan when she was asleep-”

 

“She’s my sister, Sultana!”

 

Wow, his sister? Is that why he asked about her mother? Damn the gods, she felt like an utter fool now…

 

“My point is, Sanath…” Jasmine trailed as he let go of her hand and ran towards the sparkling metallic shape. Jasmine shook her head and raised her voice slightly. “Do not touch it if it seems sharp or dangerous!”

 

“Don’t worry, Sultana, it’s just a lamp!”

 

‘A...what?’

 

Her stomach jolted, and her palms grew sweaty. She felt her throat tie up in knots and her knees begin to shake.

 

‘No, no, no, no! It...it simply couldn’t be...not that one...it can’t.’

 

“Sanath, wait right there! Whatever you do, do not...pick...it up!”

 

Trudging through the sand as hurriedly as she could, Jasmine full-well understood that Sanath would most definitely let his curiosity get the better of him.

 

“It’s so pretty, Sultana! Maybe it has the key to the garden you’re talking about!” He exclaimed with joy.

 

‘Oh, Sanath. It has so much more than just keys inside it…’

 

“Let me see it first,” she commanded, and Sanath backed away in disappointment. “Fine,” he pouted, standing beside her when she approached.

 

Her eyes widened and her skin erupted into gooseflesh, no words could even begin to process her reaction to the unmistakably golden, ruby and onyx created lamp that laid dormant in the sand other than-

 

“ _You_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JAFAR IS COMING NEXT CHAPTER YAY!! sort of. but i’m sorry if this chapter seemed too rushed or clamped. i tried not to focus on too many details of the attack of shirabad and her dwindling thoughts as i, myself need to watch out for my mental health, and writing certain things just wasn’t something i was completely up for. besides, it’s now left up to imagination ig now? anyways, i apologize again for broken english or anything and i hope y’all enjoyed!


	5. Bravo, Dear Sultana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding Jafar’s lamp, Jasmine is not only suspicious of how it was placed immediately in her path, but she must deal with other problems that have sprung up as well.

No, this isn’t possible. It must be some sort of cruel trick. Jafar couldn’t actually be only inches away from her.

 

He couldn’t.

 

The Genie has tossed the lamp miles from Agrabah, and her caravan was surely not that far from it. This was too coincidental; however, unless she truly was insane and it was all a horrible dream.

 

Nah’la’s riddle...

 

The viper necklace...

 

The attempted marriage at the cost of her loved ones...

 

And now the lamp?

 

Jasmine gulped and her eyes widened. This had to be a sign, a sign that either Jafar wasn’t truly bound to the lamp, and was behind all of her troubles, masquerading as one of the old gods in a devious plan for revenge.

 

Shuddering to herself in disgust, she found herself with another terrifying realization. If she wanted to stop him, Sultana Jasmine would have to enter a place far more vulnerable than she’d like to revisit again: confronting the monstrous man that remained scheming in that lamp.

 

She felt red hot anger strike her lip a slap, old memories rushing in a she vowed to herself that she would silence them a year ago. But they are back, and whether intentional or not, it was his fault.

 

His fault that she was here, her kingdom was in ruins, as well as her marriage. It was his master plan, and it only fumed her hatred more.

 

“Sanath, I don’t think there’s any sort of key to the garden in that lamp,” she whispered, suppressing her obviously worried tone. Sanath pouted again and crossed his arms. “We don’t know until we try to open it.”

 

“I don’t think we should. We never know what could be inside. There could be snakes in there!” Jasmine warned, in a way telling the truth to the boy. Because, indeed, a type of devious viper did live there, and Jasmine was going to make sure he remained inside. Even if she had to wish him bound to it forever.

 

“I’m not afraid of snakes!” Sanath cried, bawling his fists bravely. Jasmine chuckled at his focused stance. “And I thought you wanted me to get up because you were tired, remember?”

 

The child shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t feel tired anymore, Sultana! I wanna look inside the lamp.”

 

Jasmine sighed and knelt down to his level, beaming. “If we leave the lamp and go back to the caravan, I promise to tell you all sorts of stories from being a princess and how I defeated a monster once!” Which once again, was entirely true.

 

She did defeat the monster, and she was doing all in her power to make sure he remained in that damn lamp.

 

Sanath’s eyes widened in pure, innocent excitement. “Really? You defeated a monster?”

 

Jasmine, almost instinctively, eyed the golden lamp lodged in the desert sand. “I did, believe it or not.”

 

“What happened?” He exclaimed, and Jasmine’s lips curled into a half-smile. “Ah, ah! Not until you get back into the caravan will I tell you.”

 

The boy nodded happily, as if the lamp had never crossed his mind in the first place. Charging towards the caravan with impeccable speed, he waited eagerly for her to join.

 

Looking over her shoulder one last time to the hauntingly elusive lamp, she gritted her teeth and swore.

 

“This isn’t over. I will find out what you are up to, and you will tell me. I will make you tell me…”

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“And that was how I, along with Aladdin, the Genie, and my father all stopped the heinous monster Jafar…” Jasmine finished, feeling deeply relieved yet somewhat disturbed by opening up too many wounds that needed to stay scarred, but healed. It’s not like it could’ve stayed buried for long; however, as she knew conjuring Jafar would be a knife to the heart. But in the end, it was for the good of her people. And despite anything, they came first.

 

“Would you like to hear an-” Jasmine began, turning her head to the sound asleep Sanath curled up to his siblings. Jasmine beamed at the sight and shook her head. “I knew you were tired, little one,” she whispered, facing forward from the drapes to see the serenity of the Arabian desert. The camels were resting near their masters caravan tent, one they luckily must’ve packed in the rush.

 

‘Wait. How would a traveling escape caravan have enough time to pack extra tents and camels without being seen if they had just managed to leave the walls? Why were they also waiting around outside of them? Unless...it wasn’t for the right moment, it was for someone.’

 

Jasmine’s stomach dropped, feeling her palms becoming sweaty again and her jaw clenching. This wasn’t an escape caravan of her people.

 

It was a trap, meant for her.

 

And as if right on cue, a sharp, stabbing pain smacked the back of her head, and her world faded into the darkness of night.

 

The Sultana slowly opened her eyes to see incredibly blurred figures standing over her. It was the sister, along with another man about her age, smiling deviously upon her bound, aching body. Jasmine wanted to scream for help, yet her mouth was sealed shut by a strand of cloth that barely even allowed her to breath.

 

Her wrists were tied brutally behind her back as well as her ankles, leaving burning scars she was sure whenever she tried to push against them.

 

Tears streamed down her face in helplessness and frustration, eliciting wider smiles of mania across the captors’ faces.

 

“I wouldn’t cry, Sultana. You’re far much more valuable to us if you cooperate,” the man instructed in an eerie song-like voice. The sister of Sanath smiled in agreement. “Yes, especially with the anklet you gave Sanath. It’ll help confirm that you’re the Sultana when we trade you in the Northlands.”

 

Jasmine’s heart split into two. Had Sanath tricked her too?

 

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, Sultana,” the sister cooed, wiping a stray tear from Jasmine’s cheek. “You think Sanath tricked you, didn’t you? Rest assured, he has no idea of our plan of survival. But…”

 

The sister revealed her wrist, wearing Jasmine's most prized piece of jewelry wrapped unevenly around it. Her blood boiled with perpetual rage at the betrayal, letting out a muffled, rabid scream at the fools who had captured her.

 

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you!” The man teased, causing the woman to roll her eyes in frustration. “Amar, this isn’t that fun when we can’t even hear her plead for help.”

 

That’s when Jasmine got an idea. A brilliant one, if conducted right. She had learned some things from Jafar and Aladdin on how to weasel her way out of situations just in case. Here was her chance.

 

Amar shot her a warning look before eyeing the other caravan tents with caution. “We can’t risk waking them, and besides-”

 

Jasmine began to laugh at them, in the most mocking tone she could ever concoct.

 

The sister and Amar both glared at her, not expecting such as twist in the events. “She’s laughing at us, Amar! If she knew better, she would be begging for her life.”

 

“We can’t do that Isha, we were only going to take her, a few camels, and the lamp to the Northlands while Barrat and Jal watched over the children. Now shut the hell up and-”

 

Jasmine laughed again, causing Isha’s nostrils to flare in rage. “You think this is funny? Or have you always been this mad, Sultana?”

 

Isha’s voice was raising, and Jasmine couldn’t be more satisfied. In a way, Jasmine understood what she was doing was undoubtedly cruel. She was never one to believe in fighting fire with fire, but these people were willing to dive down into a monstrous life and drag their children with them. Selling people as slaves, no matter how “necessary” for survival, was the lowest point of morality she could even think of.

 

So by now, to the axe with them for all she could care.

 

These captors were no better than what Hasib was doing to her people.

 

“Because of your inability to shut your fucking mouth, you cost so many lives to be slaughtered in Agrabah.”

 

“Isha, quiet down!”

 

Jasmine smiled beneath the cloth, seeing Sanath and other children squirm restlessly in the tents. It was only a matter of time.

 

“Because of you, we had to abandon our homes early to leave. Why? Because unlike you, we were smart enough to guess what Shirabad would do,” Isha shouted now, letting her emotions hypocritically get the better of her.

 

“Isha!” Amar cried again, but it was no use. Isha was too focused on Jasmine’s taunting laughter. One more loud declaration out of the sadistic woman and the plan would fall apart.

 

“We knew you would be such a coward to abandon your people. And-”

 

“Gods be damned, Isha! Shut your mouth!” Amar yelled, and both to their horror, Sanath and other children began to rise slowly out of their tents.

 

This was her moment, her one gods forsaken moment on having them distracted enough to loosen her bonds.

 

Finding a the frayed ends of the rope that held her wrists, she remembered what Aladdin had taught her. Or...was it Jafar?

 

‘Always rotate your wrists to loosen the rounds. Once loosened enough, the knot should be easier to undo. Always keep the rope, though. You never know when it can come in handy if you catch your captor by surprise…’

 

No, that had to have been Jafar. She knew, because, Jafar had told her this the first time she left the palace into the city. She rebuffed him and his words, yet now grudgingly she felt as if a thank you was in order. Because that was one of the first full sentences he had ever spoken to her without a hint of sarcasm or underlying spite.

 

As if he had been worried for her.

 

Wriggling the knots around her wrists to the point she finally felt air between then, she easily was able to untie the captors’ inexperienced knot. While she did, however, she couldn’t help but overhear Sanath’s cries and screams at his sister for what she had done to Jasmine.

 

“Isha, why did you do that?” He begged her, and hearing the feigned understanding and sorrow in Isha’s voice made Jasmine want to vomit.

 

“It’s necessary, Sanath. One day, you will understand why we did what we did.”

 

Now where has Jasmine heard that before?

 

“No!” He protested, in a gut-wrenching horror. “No, no, no!”

 

The other siblings, now more awake, began to cry as well. Jasmine, in the midst of the chaos, was able to wriggle out of her knots that bound her ankles to stand and sneak around them. She couldn’t run, not now after being achingly bound and partially weak. No, she had to think quick. She needed something, something like a…

 

...wish.

 

As Sanath’s eyes met Jasmine, she knew she needed to act quick. “Sultana!” He exclaimed as she bolted to the lamp. “You bitch! I thought you tied the knots harder!” She heard Amar shout and Isha.

 

Grabbing the lamp in almost impeccable yet barely enough timing, Jasmine turned to both of Isha and Amar, who both looked horrified and grudgingly defeated. They knew the lamp was her’s, and whatever Genie she would summon could whisk them away to the most unbearable torture.

 

Raising their hands up in utter defeat, Jasmine smiled triumphantly at her captors. “Please, Sultana! Don’t hurt us!”

 

Jasmine had to be cautious about her wishes, now. Risking one on sending away Isha and Amar would leave the children, who were either horrified or excited, all alone in the vast Arabian desert. If she used two wishes, only one would be left to fix Agrabah’s state. And that would certainly not be enough.

 

Yet then, Jasmine got an idea.

 

“Give me your clothing and shawl,” she demanded coldly from Isha. Doing as she was told, Isha undressed to her garment dress and handed Jasmine the shawl and clothing. “You,” she turned to Amar. “Give your wife your clothes and never hit or manipulate her again. Or I will find you, and I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

 

Amar, fear showing laughably in his eyes, did as he was told. She stepped back, still holding the lamp amply in her arms, began to speak to them. “You will all be sent to the Northlands with me in banishment from Agrabah.”

 

It was deathly quiet, almost too quiet.

 

“But once you get there, you will be free, and you will put the children first and yourselves second. If I, the Sultana of the country of Agrabah, ever hear of any plan like this from the likes of you, you will regret it.”

 

All nodded their heads, but what happened next certainly shocked everyone. From behind the tents emerged him, clapping in utter pride and surprise at Jasmine’s speech. Everyone’s jaw hit the ground, including the Sultana, who couldn’t believe her eyes.

 

“Bravo, _dear Sultana_ ,” spoke the one and only Jafar.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“Jafar?” Jasmine gasped while the ex-vizier approached her with a grin.

 

How did he get free? Did she accidentally rub the lamp on accident? Why did no one see it happen? Could Genies choose how they arose from the lamps?

 

Jasmine chuckled dryly. So many useless questions had crossed her mind about Jafar when she should have been focusing on the most important ones that dealt with the lives of her people. And she was going to make sure he answered them.

 

Eyeing the man who left her speechless, Jasmine had forgotten how different he had become after acquiring such power. Except, like the Genie, he wasn’t in his monstrous scarlet apparition.

 

He was like she knew him, for the most part. He wore a scarlet and crimson cloak, adorned and accented with sparkling onyxes. He wore his signature turban, accept it wasn’t accompanied with feathers from ravens.

 

His facial features remained as ruggedly handsome in the strange way Jasmine remembered them to be. But she couldn’t put her finger exactly on one, crucial part; He appeared almost like he did when he was human. The last thing she’d expect from the power hungry Jafar was to prefer his humanity over his powerful form, but it didn't disappoint her entirely. And for some, indescribably odd reason, she felt relief upon seeing him.

 

“My, my. This _is_ a surprise! The last thing I’d expect to see after being released from that dark cage of a lamp was to see you, Sultana! Especially after becoming the Sultana, in fact. Truly astounding!” He exclaimed now beside her, and she swore she had never seen him so frighteningly happy.

 

“But maybe you and Agrabah have consulted the likes of me, for help. Some things never do change?” Jafar laughed.

 

“Enough, Jafar, this is not the time for small talk,” Jasmine ordered, causing his smile to falter.

 

“Oh, is that how you greet an old _friend_ , is it? Or is that how you greet everyone now that you’re the Sultana, with such power and preciseness? If so, I like it!”

 

Jasmine had already been entirely disgruntled the whole night, and the last thing she wanted to out up with was his unbearable taunting. “Once again, this isn’t the time to talk. And you will do as I say. I am your master now, Jafar. Which means I can silence you and send you straight back to the lamp whenever I please. What was it you used to tell me? It is better to be seen and not heard?”

 

Jafar frowned, but not just in anger. Something foreign was in his eyes at the old reckoning. “Very well, master. I _know_ my place,” he spat, causing her to smile.

 

“Good, it’s about time all of you do,” Jasmine replied, speaking to the three of them now. The children had now moved from excitement to awe or fright. She knew she had no explicit way of telling them they were not in any harm, but she couldn’t waste her time any longer as the first wish had to be made.

 

Turning to Jafar, whose viper-like eyes hadn’t left her since he emerged from behind the tent, she took a deep breath. “And since I am your master, you will grant me whatever I want. Correct?”

 

Jafar laughed dryly. “That is what Genies do, Sultana,” he sarcastically quipped in that unbearable, scaly voice that drove her mad. She rolled her eyes at him in an annoyed glare. “No, not just wishes. In my power I can do anything I want to do, including sending you back to the lamp. Even if you simply didn’t answer a question or tell me the truth.”

 

Jafar smiled at her placidly. “Whatever you want Sultana,” his teeth gritted as he leaned towards her. “it’s yours.”

 

Jasmine smiled, not as off-put by his sneering as usual, and Jafar most certainly noticed as well. “Perfect. I wish for all of us to be taken to the Northlands.”

 

Jafar raised his brow. “Now why on earth would you want to go there, Sultana? Why not leave them to their banishment and just wish to return to Agrabah?”

 

Jasmine shot him a not-so friendly look, and through gritted teeth she said, “You heard me. No questions right now. Not until I have a knife against your neck and you beg while doing so.”

 

She suddenly remembered how she appeared to her captors’ and the children, feeling guilt at how terrifying she seemed when in the presence of Jafar. It’s the undeniable effect he had on everyone, and even though she was his master he still seemingly managed to control that much. But she would put a definitive stop to that.

 

Jafar sighed and nodded. “As you wish, Sultana,” he murmured. In a flash of bright, crimson smoke and light, Jasmine only had to blink and the ground beneath her shifted into solid soil. She had never experienced Genie magic before, but this was not as close to what she thought to expect. Which all the more terrified her at how Jafar never ceased at surprising her, his master and Sultana, that night.

 

The Northland streets that they arrived at were still bustling with visitors and markets, much so enough that it was hardly noticeable when they even arrived. Turning towards her captors’, she glared and hissed. “Go.”

 

Picking up the reigns of the camels, they turned on their heels and sped away, but not without giving her a second glance ever so often. Yet, one child still didn’t leave, and instead, he ran towards her with tears streaming down his face. “Go with your family, Sanath,” she whispered, her voice hoarse as she struggled to keep tears from escaping.

 

“I don’t want to leave you, Sultana.” Sanath exclaimed. Jasmine smiled and shook her head. “Your family needs protection. Promise me you’ll protect them?”

 

Sanath eventually nodded after a moment, hugging her tightly while handing Jasmine her once stolen anklet. “I will,” he sobbed.

 

Feeling Jafar’s eyes on her, Jasmine normally wouldn’t bear to let him see her this vulnerable. But this time was different, this moment she didn’t care. He could laugh, but she had the final say.

 

“We will meet again,” she swore to Sanath after breaking the hug. He smiled weakly before moping back to Isha, who couldn’t wait to get away from the vengeful Sultana and her glare.

 

Jasmine then rose up from the ground after they were out of sight, and seeing the next bustling market beside her, she acted in pure rashness.

 

Pulling a silver dagger from the stand, she whirled around and locked it only a few millimeters from Jafar’s bate neck. “Hey lady, you’re going to have to pay for that!” Barker the marketsman. She didn’t bat an eye; however, her seething focus fully on the man before her.

 

Jafar himself was definitely surprised, but deep down she knew that he feared death. And never did he say that she couldn’t at least harm him with the dagger, so this would definitely be a dangerous game to play if he said the slightest of wrong words.

 

Feeling the dagger break the first barrier of skin on his neck, Jasmine gritted her teeth and looked him straight in the eye.

 

“We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, once again, this may seem weirdly paced, but i like how it turned out! they FINALLY have talked, and are talking a whole lot more next chapter! anyways, i apologize for broken english and i hope you liked it!


	6. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine now has Jafar in her grasp, right where she wants the ignorant fool. And yet, she can’t bring herself to make this wish she so desperately wants to make. Instead, Sultana Jasmine of Agrabah hatches another idea. Maybe, Jafar had more advantages to her aside from wishing her problems away...

Jafar eyed her in blank curiosity, contemplating on not so much the softly oozing blood from his neck under the knife but on her expression.

 

Jasmine gritted her teeth in her rising anger, pushing the knife ever so slowly into his unprotected neck. “Well...explain!” She pressured him, growing impatient with his demeaningly blank stare.

 

Did nothing phase him?

 

Not even a slight since arose from his reaction to the knife, making her only more enraged.

 

“Explain what?” He asked, more confused than exasperated.

 

Did he even know why she had him at knifepoint? No, he was smarter than that.

 

Certainly the calculating Jafar himself could surely have figured out why, in her anger, she’s reacting the way she was.

 

She knew what he was up to, it had to be him causing the whole ordeal. And the nerve of him lying to her possibly tempted her to push the dagger all the way through, as if she were slicing butter.

 

“You know exactly what I mean. It’s the only...only logical explanation for what’s happened,” Jasmine seethed.

 

Jafar eyed their surroundings, watching the marketplace of the Northlands shift and falter at the bizarre fight between what appeared to be a nobleman and a streetrat woman. “Careful, Sultana,” he hissed with a tone typically used to chastise a child. “People are watching.”

 

Growling under her breath, she surprised everyone next by slamming him against a nearby building wall. People were scattering and panicking like birds from a tree, and Jafar shut his eyes in either annoyance or dwindling pain.

 

Jasmine couldn’t decide which emotion she thought she saw; however, but it was best to assume it was indefinite annoyance. “You will tell me what you’ve done, snake. You could’ve had me fooled about your whole scheme and revenge if you didn’t drop so many blatant, pathetic signs!”

 

“Sultana, please. I don’t know what you are accusing me of, but-”

 

“No!” Jasmine interrupted him, tears stinging both her eyes and the confidence in her voice. “You let me speak. I am not letting you quiet me, not this time. You are under my authority, and I will continue to put you back in your place as long as it takes to get your thick-skulled head kissing the land beneath my feet!”

 

“Sultana, you need to quiet down,” he warned menacingly, but she laughed dryly and wiped a stray tear away.

 

“Are you afraid of everyone seeing you like this? Even if they don’t even know your name, you still care about your image, your worth, you, you, you!” Jasmine snarled, taking great pleasure in Jafar’s uncomfortable shifting and anger rising.

 

“As much as I appreciate getting down to business, not that it’s something you’d understand, now isn’t the time. If it’s in your best interest, I’d suggest-”

 

She drew the knife from his neck, and in a spout of anger, pinned the cloth of his grand cloak to the wall. Jafar smiles wickedly, sparking a growl in anger from the Sultana.

 

“You will not mock me! Your time for that is up. Maybe if it’s in your best interest, you’ll tell me what devious plan your up to, or one slight wish from me could possibly undo all of it.”

 

“But that isn’t what you want, is it? I can see what you truly want, it’s hardly even hidden. You don’t want to undo whatever has happened, you want vengeance,” he concluded. Jafar laughed deviously at how Jasmine’s words faltered at the grudgingly truthful revelation. And here he was, bringing out the worst of her in front of everyone. Most horrible of all, she was letting him.

 

Although she didn’t take the knife out of his silk cloak, she watched him carefully as her anger began to subside. “I know what you’re doing,” she smiled, regaining her confidence and willpower.

 

Jafar frowned in annoyance, apparating from the wall on his own to beside her, reminding her obnoxiously of his powers beyond and immortality at best. A fool she felt now, underestimating his power which slightly terrified her. Yet, Jafar only rambled on about her recent accusation. “Here we go again…”

 

Jasmine took the knife out of the wall and toyed with it. “You wanted to get under my skin, didn’t you? You know full well what you have done, you’re just pretending to make me appear as a fool,” she concluded, the ghost of a smile replaced with the poise of a Sultana.

 

“Not at all, Sultana. But seeing as how you’ve childishly refused to listen to me earlier, I shan’t expect anything different now. Carry on,” he countered, smiling.

 

Jasmine so badly desired to take this knife and plunge it into his heart for a split second, but she gritted her teeth and stared blankly. “Very well.”

 

“Very well, indeed,” gruff voices arose from behind her. Startled, she whirled around and her stomach dropped in shame and annoyance.

 

“Guards,” she growled.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“You’re being awfully calm about this,” Jasmine spat at Jafar as they awaited trial for recklessness in the streets. They weren’t put in a cell; however, as Jafar in his own cunning and slick ways, managed to persuade the guards that they insisted on speaking to the king right away.

 

How he did that? Jasmine was unsure but it boiled her blood nonetheless.

 

So instead, begrudgingly thanks to Jafar’s wit, they were on their way to be escorted to the king. “I’d just like to know how you even managed to rule Agrabah for so long,” he remarked.

 

Jasmine rolled her eyes as she walked, eyes locked straight ahead. “I had my father and Aladdin to aid me.”

 

Jafar dryly smirked. “Aladdin…” he trailed, emphasizing every vowel with pure disdain. “...tell me, how has your lover so ardently able to assist you in ruling a kingdom?”

 

“You’re one to talk,” Jasmine murmured, hitting an old wound with Jafar the traveled back years. When Jasmine’s father and her had found him at age fourteen, Jasmine was only nine at the time.

 

They practically grew together, yet he always kept his distance from her. He was polite, yet quiet, until one day he came home with a foreign, menacing twinkle in his eye. And still to this day, he’s had that wicked spark in his eye, but not as prominent since reuniting. Something had shifted in him, and she wasn’t wasting time debating if it was for better or for worse.

 

“What are you implying?”

 

“Let us start, shall we? You tried to take over the kingdom, you almost had Aladdin killed, you tortured my father, you tried to force me into marriage with you…”

 

Jasmine, in the corner of her eye as she walked, saw him hang his head and clench his jaw at her list, yet it seemed the last part must’ve struck a nerve in him. And she couldn’t have been more pleased with it.

 

“...You also tried to break me. Always telling me to stay quiet, always telling me I’m never good enough. Insulting me as well? Yeah, you aren’t exactly the picture of a perfect advisor,” she retorted. Luckily, the guards were amply enough behind them to not hear their quiet bickering. Hopefully, the king awaited them not much longer.

 

“You know why I did so much of what I did, Sultana?” Jafar tempted, but not in the way a mousetrap would tempt a mouse. Moreover begging deep down for her to take the trap away from the mouse as if it were a burden.

 

“I think it’s obvious, Jafar. I don’t have time for your mind games,” she dismissed him, though her curiosity was peaked.

 

They walked through corridors that seemed to go on for endless miles.

 

The palace designs of the Northlands mimicked the particularly cold climate of winter they were experiencing around this type of year.

 

The pillars were as white as snow, with intricate designs etched into the marble.

 

The windows that perfected the architecture were composed of shades of white,silver, and blue, showcasing the Northlands dire history and wars with Great China.

 

She envied the Northlands, since every time she visited gave her the pleasure of seeing snow, something entirely foreign to Agrabah. Her father was great friends with the former king of the Northlands, and they’d plan birthday balls for Jasmine when their family visited.

 

The alliance with Agrabah faded away after her fourteenth birthday; however, as the former king’s passing left another successor the kingdom. Hopefully this one wasn’t as rash as Hasib.

 

“About Aladdin…” Jafar trailed, the same disdain within his voice towards her former love. “You fell in love with him soon? Surprising it is, the man who you knew only for a few days and also lied to you, your father, and Agrabah was the one?”

 

She wouldn’t tell him about her marriage, she couldn’t give him the opportunity to taunt her. So she played along.

 

“He was, Jafar. He still is.”

 

Jafar swallowed hard and blankly stared ahead, Jasmine hoping dearly he hadn’t noticed her lying. After a few moments, the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “Why isn’t he with you? Surely your new vizier and father could handle the kingdom without that fool’s input, regardless of his skills compared to mine.”

 

Jasmine stared blankly ahead, taking joy in sending his triumphant joy fade into horrible realization.

 

“He’s the new grand vizier isn’t he…” Jafar seethed a few moments later. “Yes, in fact, he is. He’s also my husband,” Jasmine snorted.

 

And for a brief, flickering moment, Jasmine swore she saw just the slightest hint of anger, or possibly envy in his expression until it melted away into sole, pure anger. “You and with that fool ruling Agrabah together? No wonder you’ve consulted me…”

 

“For the last time, I am not consulting you! I didn’t even mean to free you from the lamp! I still am not sure how it happened, but the only reason I left Agrabah was to find help…”

 

“For?”

 

Thinking back to Jafar’s rage and grudge against Shirabad only a year earlier, she couldn’t imagine the gloating he would put her through when she told him what had happened. “...Shirabad attacked,” Jasmine murmured.

 

Jafar’s eyes widened in anger and surprise. “What?”

 

“Ah! The nobleman and his slave! May I ask why you have brought them to me, Bogatyrs?” A booming voice interrupted. Jasmine and Jafar’s attention immediately snapped to the king, who was a pudgy man with black long hair and powdered. “Forgive us for the intrusion, Czar. But the nobleman requests to speak with you.”

 

“If he’s interested in selling me the slave girl, I am not interested,” The Czar said, boredom seeping through his words.

 

“Good,” Jasmine spoke out, not entirely fond of being recognized as a slave. She could feel Jafar’s disappointed gaze prying at her, but she was saving her country. She didn’t have bloody time for feigning slavery.

 

“We are not here for slavery. In fact, we are not how you presume to be at all. You see,” Jasmine paused, wrapping her arm around Jafar’s. “I am Sultana Jasmine of Agrabah, and this is my husband…grand vizier Aladdin.”

 

An uncomfortable silence emerged, especially from Jafar beside her. The moment she linked her arm around him turned Jafar completely paralyzed, like he was lost in his calculations with another foreign emotion across his face. There wasn’t anger, nor surprise, nor sadness on his face. One of the most peculiar glances she had ever seen.

 

Turning back to the Czar with confidence, she awaited his response. Now, out of all her plans to wriggle out of this ordeal, she couldn’t have found a more perfect one, if executed correctly.

 

The Czar’s smile dropped, and his translucent brow furrowed. “Your Sultan Fazl ur Rahman’s only daughter? The young Jasmine?”

 

Jasmine bit her tongue at the use of subtle demean, but blinked and tipped her head in agreement. The Czar laughed now, a pathetic one indeed. “You expect me to believe that you, a slave girl dressed in slave clothing, are in fact a Sultana from Agrabah, a country who has seen and forbid no female ruler in its history? I’d take you for a mad woman, girl.”

 

Jasmine raised her bro, feeling all faces glued to her as if her heart’s thumping could be any louder. “Those were old rules, yes. But times have changed. Agrabah has changed. Your father was my father’s best friend, they used to frolick, plan, and meet together under the terms that your father swore fealty to the country of Agrabah to maintain a steady alliance. You never officially broke ties with my country, and severing ties freely after disrespecting its Sultana, is not as easy as you may think.”

 

“I have no intention of breaking ties with Agrabah.”

 

“Then whether or not you accept me as its ruler, you still have an oath to my country. You see, our country has come under siege by the country of Shirabad. This was an act of war, requiring your most gracious reinforcements and thereby honoring the allegiance,” Jasmine coldly reprimanded.

 

The Czar chuckled again. “How do I know that you’re not from Shirabad yourself. Or any country that could be simply sending my thousands of bogatyr while we remain half the power?”

 

“That power you have can be simply and easily taken away. I will strike you a deal, perhaps, to prove myself,” Jasmine offered, internally slapping herself for possibly wasting more time over a petty deal than her country’s safety. She didn’t have time for this, and yet, this could all be solved with the use of a wish.

 

But that wasn’t what she wanted.

 

Even if she asked for a wish for Agrabah’s safety or for her armies to be replenished, that doesn’t prevent Shirabad from attacking again. Wishes, Aladdin had told her, could not be used to kill someone or take away guilt. And she more than ever wanted to avenge her country the bloody, bruising way that they had suffered in the attack while holding Hisab’s severed head on a spear.

 

“I would like to make an offer. You send scouts to travel and visit Agrabah. You will find the country is shreds, children dying, and Shirabad as its ruler. Once they return, you will have no choice but to honor your allegiance and fight for my country without question, and I will consider forgiveness for your insults tonight. And if they return with news that the country is thriving, you may take pleasure in executing both my husband and I.”

 

The Czar’s eyebrow twitched in thrill. From what Jasmine understood, he adored a game or challenge. “Very well, Sultana…” he accepted, ever accent dripping with sarcasm from his pig-like smile. “You and your husband, the grand Vizier Aladdin, will be allowed to stay under the protection of the Zemlya Severa…” the Czar promised, his grin growing to a proportional size where his eyes could no longer be seen under his powdered cheeks. “...Temporarily, that is. If we find out you have been lying to us, Sultana, we will dice your bodies and feed you to the bears.”

 

Jasmine smiled coldly, unwavered by his gruesome threat. “Thank you, your grace.”

 

Jafar also thanked him with his slick persuasion, and the Czar instantly smiled back. Jasmine couldn’t help her anger and envy, knowing exactly the reason why he was respectful to Jafar was because of his title and sex.

 

Turning away from the Czar, she and Jafar were escorted to their chambers by the guards.

 

“You impressed me, Sultana. You radiated in front of the Czar,” he complemented, leaving Jasmine utterly speechless.

 

Did...she hear him right?

 

Did Jafar, the power-hungry man who still has belittled her the entire time, actually compliment her?

 

Jasmine noticed her appalled reaction and laughed dryly. “I’m surprised myself. I didn’t think you had it in you. And the thrill of that conversation makes me crave to see more from you, if this isn’t a one time spark.”

 

And there it fell.

 

Jasmine shook her head in disbelief, that she actually believed he had one time shown her true support like he did before he changed. “You fooled me, Jafar,” she tempered bitterly. “I can’t believe I fell for it.”

 

Jafar, who genuinely seemed confused, furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure I understand.”

 

“Don’t give me that, you fool. You’re a fucking genie! All powerful! You understand everything, know everything. And yet you still have the nerve to insult me? Your master, your Sultana?”

 

They finally reached their chambers and Jasmine bursted through the door, walking straight toward the balcony window in order to hide her tears from him. “I won’t ever be able to understand you, Jafar. You always try to hurt me, and for what?”

 

“You’re right, Sultana. You don’t understand. My reasons for why I treated you harshly. In my best experience, I didn’t get where I did by coddling. I needed to be forced and beaten to grow immune to almost anything.”

 

Jasmine whirled around and dryly chuckled, tears gleaming in her eyes. “So that’s what this ordeal is? Making me stronger? I have a hard time believing that, Jafar. Come up with a more convincible lie to tell me for your excuse.”

 

Jafar shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You still don’t understand. Maybe you won’t. I’m not going to chastise you anymore, because you’ve proven to me-”

 

“Proven to you? I don’t need to prove anything to you to earn your respect. Fuck, you never proved kindness and gentleness to me to gain mine, you tried to force it. By marriage and torture! You need to realize you can’t just go around hurting people to make them stronger, there are other ways! And...and…”

 

Jasmine tapered off, feeling her palms grow sweaty and her breathing picking up pace. She couldn’t even look at the man before her, nor did she want to. Of all her emotions she felt in the moment, pain was the most prominent. From old wounds being reopened to new ones freshly slashed, she barely contained herself from ripping him apart.

 

‘It was all true,’ she concluded, ‘it had to be.’

 

The thought she had been theorizing all along. “...You’re Mot aren’t you?”

 

“What?”

 

Jasmine’s mouth hung agape, and she slowly approached him in tears. In a hot flash, she struck him hard across his cheek, causing him to grunt in pain. “You...bastard! This was all part of your plan! To lead me away from Agrabah, free you, while some part of you demands respect by hurting my country? The country that took you in?”

 

Jafar, who was now seething in anger with his own shining tears, clenched his jaw. “How dare you accuse me of that?” He demanded, his fist clenching in anger.

 

“I have every right to believe you would do something like that. You’ve given me every reason to believe you would,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

 

Jafar’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he approached her, his eyes gleaming not only with tears but with a hint of scarlet from his immortal Genie form showing through the cracks of his mask. “You really think that low of me? That I would side with the scum of Shirabad and attack my country, my _home_ , under the pretense of a god? Do you even hear how mad that sounds?”

 

“Does it, Jafar? Does it?” Jasmine spat, watching his eyes glow more vibrantly. He approached her angrily, his jaw clenching and unclenching. She felt no terror, only anger, ready for whatever painful torture or brutal remark he had in store. She would strike him again if she needed to, and she more than wanted too. Sending him back into the lamp would be easy now, and in her rashness she even debated on it despite possibly needing her other two wishes. Anything to spite and hurt him at this point in the moment was her goal.

 

And yet, Jafar surprised her again. He approached her, hovering his monstrous, glowing glare inches away from hers, only to swiftly glide past her and stop at the balcony to the Northlands.

 

Jasmine felt more tears strike her cheeks raw, watching him almost pained her more than it did satisfy her. She needed to be alone with her thoughts, she needed to clear her head. But not here, not with him while he still arose so many unpleasant emotions.

 

Striding towards the door, Jasmine pauses before exiting. “How does it feel being the weak one? The one without power?” she growled only loud enough for him to hear. He didn’t turn around, or bother to give her a second glance, prompting her to accept his silence and leave.

 

Heading towards the bathing rooms, she wiped her tears away and enter the dimly lit room, feeling relief to see the marble white bath situated neatly in front of a roaring fire with an already heated pot sitting above it.

 

After preparing the bath and undressing, Jasmine’s thoughts of Jafar clouded her mindset to where she nearly burned her finger on the hot iron pot. Feeling another round of tears nearing, she slipped into the water an sobbed.

 

He hurt her.

 

He tried to excuse himself.

 

Worst of all, he actually seemed to believe himself and what he was doing was fine. Fine!

 

Yet that wasn’t the worst part. She thought she’d feel much better by summing up the conclusion that her old enemy was masquerading as a god. It made sense, until she saw the man cry.

 

He cried! And it seemed so disgustingly genuine, she caught herself feeling the slightest guilt for him. Which terrified her most. Because no matter the circumstance, Jafar hardly cried, the first being in the throne room a year ago...when he broke her hea-

 

“Me. He broke me. Nothing more than just her confidence and trust,” she corrected and reminded herself while letting the warm water soak and relax her.

 

That was all, it truly was. And relaxing herself should help correct these guilty thoughts and misjudgments surely. She just needed to relax.

 

And with that revelation, Jasmine closed her eyes and felt herself drifting away.

 

Away from the horrendous thoughts of guilt, anger, and anything else that she knew was there yet couldn’t quite name…

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

_“My dear, I wasn’t sure we would meet again!” A familiarly terrifying male voice sung throughout her echoing, dream-like state._

_Jasmine, who’s brow furrowed and realization dawning, she shook her head. “Jafar, leave me be!” She ordered._

_Yet out of the same mist came the path to a familiar garden, presumably to the temple. “Dear Sultana, I am not your pathetic puppet. I am something far more…” the voice tapered off while deepening demonically. “...ancient.”_

_Jasmine, once again despite her clarity, felt herself being drawn to the path that most certainly led towards the same temple. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe this trick, can you?” She asked, yet with less and less confidence to support her._

_“If I was truly that genie of yours, I wouldn’t need your help.”_

_Now she was confused, and slowly began to understand what she was truly tapering with. “Why would a god need help from me?” She inquired suspiciously, reaching onto the steps of the temple._

_“It’s not anything from yourself I need, Sultana,” his voice boomed and echoed throughout her mind painfully. “I need you to fulfill a task for me. As long as the genies remain in the world, my power is always dwindling behind. After Amm divided his shared power with a creation of his, known as the genies, they will always remain a threat in my path. I seek to restore and avenge my brothers and sisters to cleanse the world, but I cannot succeed unless the genies have been eradicated.”_

_Jasmine shuddered at the last sentence, feeling a pit of grief and worry hitting her stomach. She knew what he was going to ask of her, she just knew it._

_The Sultana has now reached the lamp, caressing the cold metal with her fingers like she had down prior._

_“And your puppet, that fool, is the last of his kind. That’s why I ask for you to complete that task for me. Wish him to become human, Sultana. And I will spare your country. Hisab’s force will dwindle and Agrabah will not be touched.”_

_Jasmine furrowed her brow and bit her lip. “How can I even trust you?” She added suspiciously._

_“I am not mortal, Sultana. I am bound to my oaths in ways you will never understand.”_

_Jasmine shook her head, still not convinced nor entirely willing. “I don’t know if I can.”_

_“Think about it, Sultana,” Mot seductively whispered. “He will never think of you as an equal and will always view you less. That fool has put you through more than anyone else, he deserves to vanish…”_

_Jasmine, suddenly in the reflection of the lamp, saw a kind, young appearance of a man smiling back at her, and she couldn’t look away anymore. Tears spilled down her cheeks in anger and she shakily exhaled, her lungs feeling like concrete. If she took this choice, this oath, her people would be safe, and Jafar could never hurt her. Despite what she thought she saw earlier, despite her false accusations, tears or anything, it all was most evidently a mask._

 

_It had to be._

 

_He was heartless, he was the reason for so much of her pain, but also for so much more of her other emotions.  
_

_That all didn’t matter now. He would always be Jafar the vicious viper. She saw nothing true in him, no sign of anything underlying. He was the wicked Jafar. Nothing could change that._

_Drawing a shaky inhale, Jasmine nodded and gulped._

_“I accept your task.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so clearly jasmine is hiding her feelings of guilt and what she thought she saw from jafar. jafar is completely confused on why she’s reacting the way she is, and may have had some revelations himself. i know this was very angsty, but it needed to burst before they have more light or heartfelt bickering, just not as much now ig. anyways i hope this was clear to everyone and that both are gonna be dealing with these conflicts a lot, which may end up clashing into something...romantic? or at least along the lines of that? anyways, i apologize for any broken english and i hope y’all enjoyed!! :)


	7. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jafar has not spoken to Jasmine days after their argument, and Jasmine is faced with another choice that may directly or indirectly go against what she had wanted all along. And yet, that isn’t even the most horrifying part...

It had been two days now, and Jasmine had no true idea of where Jafar was. Like he...disappeared, and she had no true solution to find him. 

 

She couldn’t ask the guards, for they’d assume suspiciously that she wasn’t truly married to Jafar. She couldn’t summon him, as the only true connection they had to each other was the fact that he was obligated to grant her wishes as long as she had the damn lamp. And finally, Jasmine couldn’t summon him because something in her propelled her away from the idea.

 

She didn’t want to see him, she didn’t feel like facing him. Not that she needed him anymore, as Mot promised her a solution to Agrabah’s dwindling fate if she set Jafar free.

 

True, Jasmine did need Jafar for one final wish, but she felt herself almost avoiding that task as well. She still didn’t trust Mot, or whoever he seemed to present himself to be. And she wasn’t sure that in doing her task she’d achieve the vengeance that was necessary for her people, for they suffered too much to just be spared from another monstrosity.

 

That wasn’t vengeance, that was another deal that couldn’t pay for the first, original blow. 

 

Jasmine sighed shakily and squeezed her eyes shut in concentration and confusion. There she sat, on the balcony in the bristling cold North breeze, overlooking the city that was covered in a fresh, sparkling blanket of snow.

 

She was given new clothing on behalf of the  Czar, a dark cerulean cloak accented with white fox fur. Jasmine began to braid her dark raven hair, which had a tendency of doing whenever she thought or worried. The Sultana had tried to wrap her head around what she truly wanted, what she needed, but it seems instead of finding a solution, she only dug deeper into the hole she was in. 

 

Instead of finding reinforcements, now she was caught between two constantly shifting pillars. One pillar was her promise to Mot for total, undisputable safety for her people and her people only if she just handed over Jafar, and one was finding the vengeance and compensation her people needed, not just to be caught in the middle of a deal that was more of a simple mercy, not regain.

 

And there was a simple choice and a hard one, just like Hasib’s proposal and Jafar’s. She could marry the monsters or take the hard, decent way out. Only this time, she was battling an apparent god.

 

One thing she became certain of in that moment was that regardless, Mot needed Jafar human. And as long as Jasmine remained on his side, he wouldn’t hurt her country. He was a god, he was smarter than to bite the hand that was retrieving him what he needed.

 

But for how long? Would he grow impatient and strike her or her country down to remind her, meaning that one pillar had to break soon.

 

And Jasmine felt deep down which one she knew she was going to choose-

 

“Sultana?” A gruff, accented voice spoke from behind her. She stopped her braiding and rose, collecting herself for her sudden, unexpected guest. It was a guard, with an unhappy scowl and spear in his hand. “The Czar requires your presence.”

 

Jasmine bit her lip.

 

Had the king found out her lie?

 

Did he know that Jafar wasn’t truly her husband?

 

Or did he have knees about the scouts that left to Agrabah?

 

It couldn’t have been the scouts, it took at least two days forth and back from Agrabah to the Northlands. So as terrifying as it was to conclude, this had to be about Jafar’s absence somehow. And yet, would he even suspect that they were lying to him just from his absence? Maybe this was an alert of some sort, maybe didn’t suspect of their lies. 

 

All Jasmine understood that to maintain this allegiance was with honesty, and a lie even as simplistic as this one could damage what has been set into place. And with her current doubts about Mot, her country, and Jafar, she still was in great need of any sort of help, small or large. 

 

As they strode down the barren, wintry white marble halls of the palace, Jasmine recalled the times her and her family would visit.

 

Of course, her mother was still alive at the time and was as fresh as a desert flower, her colorful compassion noticeable amongst the likes of her family and the Northlands.

 

Her father had also been a much happier man at the time as well. She always dressed in a petite fur coat, which she only ever wore when visiting. Everything was always perfectly planned, games were planned and balls were had. 

 

Everyone was happy as well, all except Jafar.

 

He never was one to fit in, especially in an area unfamiliar to him. Most of the time, he’d prefer to be left alone or with her father, causing her mother’s discomfort at bringing the apprentice and her father’s defense that he’s “part of the family now.” 

 

Jasmine and her father seemed to be the only people in Agrabah who accepted him, and she regrets that she ever did...

 

“Has there been any update?” Jasmine inquired, trying to focus on a far more serious thought.

 

They reached the end of the corridor to doors carved from spruce that led to the palace. Jasmine, at the very least, hoped the guard couldn’t see through her paper thin facade and if she could fool him, maybe she could fool the Czar... 

 

“No, but there has been a change in plans, Sultana.”

 

Jasmine felt her breath hitch in her throat. ‘They had found out, they had to…’ 

 

It was over for her, and her plan. She should’ve sought out Jafar earlier and bloody done what Mot asked of her. Now, with his avoidance and her likely trouble, her country would be as good as dead.

 

Leading her into the throne room which was only lit by the light of small candles, she could see two figures mumbling in the center. Jasmine swallowed hard and began to calm herself.

 

It was eating at her, she realized, all this lying.

 

To Czar, Sanath, maybe even herself. She was never one to enjoy getting her own way when it was dishonest, unlike Jafar. Which seemed unreasonable she’d even get punished before he did. 

 

“Ah, Sultana…” the Czar greeted her when his eyes flicked in her direction. The other figure, almost instinctively, turned around as well...leaving her mouth hung open.

 

It was Jafar.

 

“You’re...you’re here?” She incredulously asked, approaching his side. Jafar smirked, his eyes full of wonder and that foreign emotion again she found herself so impeccably curious about. 

 

“Hello, my dear wife.”

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Jafar hadn’t left. In fact, he had expected her. Turning up without explanation for a scheme that could’ve damaged what she had been fighting for. All because of the rash fight they had and his out of place behavior.

 

Not that...she acted rash. Making the deal with Mot was reasonable, especially when it was evident she shouldn’t refuse a god, or whatever he was. And yet, here she was, undoing her promise because she realized she had indeed, maybe ever so slightly...acted rash. Maybe they both were to blame for some things, but that didn’t excuse everything he had done.

 

And no matter what, she’d never forgive him.

 

Ever.

 

“Hello, my grand vizier,” she returned his greeting with a serene smile, covering up her surprise as much as she could. His smile widened, and for the first time in ages, it was oddly...sweet. No true hint of malice or deviousness for an ultimatum, just...sweet. Sultana Jasmine wasn’t quite sure how she liked that, or how it made her feel at all.

 

“Hello, Sultana,” the Czar also spoke, giving her his same, cheeky grin from only days before. “Firstly, are you well? We haven’t seen you leave your chambers since you arrived practically.”

 

Jasmine pressed her lips together and shot Jafar a disconcerting look. “I’ve just had so many thoughts on my mind since I arrived, your grace. Forgive me.”

 

Jafar’s smile faded ever so slightly, not so much as noticeable to the Czar, but very noticeable to the young woman in beside him. But now was not the time to compensate and recollect, thus she turned back to the Czar. “Forgiveness is not needed,” he beamed. “In fact, I am glad to officiate the allegiance between Agrabah and Zemlya Severa once again.”

 

Jasmine’s brow furrowed and she stole a quick glance at Jafar, who smiled triumphantly. He persuaded the Czar, of course he had. She shouldn’t have expected anything less of him. “Your husband and I just spoke about invading Shirabad while my scouts return with information regarding Sultan Hasib’s current troop and defense status.”

 

The Sultana’s eyes widened in anger and fear, knowing definitely that without a doubt that this Jafar’s typical and quite signature catch. “Why would we invade Shirabad? There are innocents behind the walls!”

 

Jafar sighed and the Czar looked at her with slight discontent, and it boiled her blood. “Shirabad took half of Agrabah’s population and decimated nearly all of your armies, Sultana. Your husband has convinced me that action must be taken, and to wait for scouts would be no use. There has to be remaining calvaries and troops in the Shirabadian center.”

 

“But this seems too harsh, and I will not pay for life with another life, your grace,” Jasmine spoke coldly. The Czar shook his head in disappointment. “We would not travel so far to simply decimate a city with innocents, I assure you Sultana. But an invasion, even with a few lives risked, its a greater victory against Shirabad than simply attacking head-on first in Agrabah.”

 

“And what if they’re prepared for invaders? What if there aren’t even armies remaining in Shirabad at all? I know Hasib, your grace, he’s not as half-baked as he appears. He wouldn’t be that great of a fool to leave the rest of his forces in Shirabad,” Jasmine retorted.

 

“Perhaps you’re right. He isn’t a fool, which would mean that he would leave at least some reinforcements back in Shirabad to control the city. Which is why an invasion would be good,” Jafar tempered, swallowing hard. 

 

Jasmine shook her head, her voice easing upward a few octaves. “And if we’re wrong? There are no troops and a reckless invasion was wasted?”

 

The Czar stuttered slightly, finding no words to retort her last inquiry. “Then all I can say, Sultana, that at least it wasn’t Agrabah under siege. We could send scouts to Shirabad, but that would delay the attack for too long.”

 

“Yes, my dear,” Jafar muttered to Jasmine, both still foreign and discomforted by the pretense of their feigned marriage. Her mouth tasted sour and her head felt strangely weak. No matter what she did, she still continued to dig herself deeper into a hole as her pillars grew numerously. 

 

“The longer we delay, the more time Shirabad has time to call for their own reinforcements. We can’t wait him out, he needs to be flushed,” Jafar whispered, touching her hands in a lover’s feign with his face inches away from hers.

 

She couldn’t stand how easily he was able to show feigned affection for her, in fact, she detested it. His lies always shook her to her very core, yet there was something about this trick that especially filled her with rage. Maybe it was the current circumstances concocted together with his trickery, but all Sultana Jasmine understood was that she needed to be alone. 

 

“May I excuse myself, your grace. I’m feeling rather ill,” she muttered, turning away from Jafar and the Czar. As she strode to the doors that led her to her chambers, she suddenly heard the sudden echo of footsteps follow not far behind. After reaching the corridor, she could feel Jafar now walking beside her.

 

“I meant what I said, Jafar. I want to be alone,” she dismissed him coldly. Jasmine then, still not meeting his eyes however, felt her heart grow familiarly bitter. Just like the night only a few days ago. “Especially not from you.”

 

“Sultana, forgive me, but I am not coming for you. I am coming for Agrabah.” He pestered. “Interesting how you insist that we shan’t wait another second, yet you feel you’re not obligated by that as to weep in your chambers?”

 

Jasmine felt the air catch in her throat and she found herself in a familiar strength of body and mind. Plunging him against the wall with her fists tightly wrapped around his collar, glaring at him maliciously. “How dare you! First, you ignore me, your Sultana for days, and now you have the audacity to even speak such an outrageous accusation?” 

 

Jasmine swallowed hard to prevent more than one tear from escaping. “Unlike you, I care about lives being wasted for possible naught! That’s the reason why you’re up against the wall and I’m the Sultana!” She seethed.

 

Jafar’s curiosity was peaked, hiding a glimmer of hurt she swore she thought she saw again deep behind his chocolate eyes. “It’s beautiful of you to try and save every life you can. I’ll admit, I was beginning to question it days ago, but I’ve come to accept our differences, as well as our similarities…”

 

“We are nothing alike.”

 

“But aren’t we? We are both vengeful, compassionate creatures of habit. We both wanted the same thing, and we still do,” sneered Jafar.

 

“Except unlike you, you fool, I didn’t dare consider anyone in competition to me inferior. And I still don’t make excuses about my actions!”

 

“But you do, Sultana.” Jafar’s brow furrowed. “Even now, it’s eating away at you. Something is. Something you could’ve stopped yet you chose to cause.”

 

“You know nothing about me, Jafar. You never have, and you never will…” Jasmine vowed, leaning closer as if to bite in rage. She dropped him from the wall and sped off at a faster pace, and to her delight, she didn’t hear him try to catch up to her. 

 

Later that evening, with Jasmine cuddled near the fireplace in order to stay warm in the icy palace, he finally returned. 

 

“...The Czar would like to apologize for any offensive comments he may have made, despite my constant apologies for your outburst. You’re welcome, by the way,” he added sarcastically.

 

Jasmine did not give him her attention; however, and instead continued staring at the mesmerizing flames. “But...since you are the Sultana of Agrabah, we will not make any advances without your consent. Rest assured, you have more time to wallow…”

 

There was aggravation in his tone, as well as slickness, yet there was that same foreign emotion she couldn’t solve like a puzzle to save her life. A lingering and uncomfortable silence filled the chambers, and it only grew like a weed.

 

Her head ached and she still felt ill, trying to decide whether or not she would take the offer to invade.

 

Why must it be this difficult?

 

There had to be another way, but she knew the longer she waited the more her country was falling to ruin. 

 

“Jafar…” Jasmine ordered in a cracked voice. “I want my second wish.”

 

It was about time for her, she knew it to be true. She may have been debating on whether or not to follow through with Mot’s task, but she knew what had to be done. Hasib would be gaining military lieges by the minute the longer she was in denial or wait. And she wouldn’t waste this wish...

 

“Go on,” Jafar replied, and she could hear the smirk in voice. 

 

Jasmine shakily exhaled and she brought her hands away from the fire as to unbraid her silky hair. “I want the country of Shirabad, all the innocents, to remain safe when the Czar’s armies attack.”

 

The silence returned and Jasmine knew that he wasn’t overly fond of that idea. His dry laughter rose with the crackling of embers and sparks in the fire. “You would waste your wish on that country’s safety over yours?”

 

“If I don’t make this wish, then there will be no attack on Shirabad. And if-”

 

“In war, there are casualties, Sultana! You cannot protect everyone! When will you understand that?” Jafar barked. 

 

Jasmine stood up to face him, and she gasped at what she saw. There were tears again, sparkling in his wicked eyes. 

 

“I know there are casualties, but the goal of revenge comes when no one innocent is in harm’s way,” Jasmine exclaimed, infuriating Jafar instantly.

 

“You can’t ensure that. Especially in Shirabad. I assure you that no one, not a single person in that hellish city is innocent!” Jafar shouted in disgust. 

 

“You don’t know that!”

 

“Might as well, I was born from that country! You have no true understanding of what they did to me!” Jafar seethed, purely enraged. Jasmine felt about form in the very depths of her heart.

 

Something she hadn’t thought about in a long time.

 

And though it gave no excuse to Jafar’s character and his motives, it helped explained. She just happened to remember that crucial memory.

 

“I know that there are, because unlike all of the horrifying and soul-breaking hells you experienced, you were once innocent…” Jasmine said, much more softly now.

 

Jafar’s eyes widened and his features became more prominently focused on that same, foreign emotion now flushed to the surface. His fists were tightened in his tense reckoning and escalation, almost as rapidly as the tears now striking his cheeks in swirling emotions. It was now that Jasmine realized how entirely and horrifyingly vulnerable they both were, despite their hatred.

 

“...You...don’t know me. Or understand, Sultana. You never will,” he hissed in rage, yet Jasmine could see that underneath his anger, she had sparked something within him. Something that she felt terrified of realizing herself: he wasn’t really that different from her. He was forced to bury so many bodies for his survival, and she was here doing the exact same for her people. But she couldn’t accept that. 

 

She couldn’t accept, that in the midst of her moral battle with Hasib, the innocent, and Mot, that Jafar might actually be the one to confide in. She couldn’t.

 

“I do know you, Jafar. What happened to you. And in my understanding, that is why I ask for this wish. To avoid turning out like you did, I’m making the best decision I felt I’ve made in a while. So grant me my wish…” she trailed, her heart racing and her tears fading into her heated cheeks.

 

Jafar stood in silence, his anger subsiding into calm bitterness. Jasmine, as much as she wanted to distance herself from returning to those heartbreaking memories, she needed to mention them tonight. And maybe, coming clean now would help her distance him once again, if that’s what she truly wanted anymore.

 

“...Very well,” Jafar growled sharply and turned away from her to the oak doors of their chambers. “The people of Shirabad will be protected...and the armies will lay siege tomorrow.”

 

Slamming the door behind him, Jasmine collapsed to her knees, overwhelmingly taken aback by how intimate the conversation had turned. She had made her second wish, a huge decision to advance an alliance into a war, and yet here she was, overwhelmed by Jafar. And everything that revolves around her choices against or even for him.

 

So that night, that cold wintry night, Jasmine vowed to herself to never let it happen with him again…

 

...but could she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> k i know this was most just arguing and talking, but they needed to talk again okay? jasmine right now is battling her morale in war as well as her whole plan with jafar. truly, she wants to hate him, and she does. but she finds it not as easy as she used to. so that just adds to her problems that keep branching! anyways hope this isn’t too confusing, cluttered, or boring! and i apologize for any broken english as well! thanks for reading!


	8. I Don’t Hate You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine is content with how she handled her second wish and feels like she finally has progressed. Yet with this advancement comes new revelations and hardships, especially with her need to justify her hatred for Jafar...

“Can I get fifteen rubles? Fifteen rubles for the handmade silk scarf from the Arabian lands?” The auctioneer cried out to the crowd of mystified bidders. Jasmine couldn’t help but roll her eyes in annoyance at dazzled eyes and fake linen.

 

She had decided to take a stroll through the streets of the Northlands, and it severely lacked the bustling and crowded aura of Agrabah that she had known and loved. Here everything was too quiet. Too organized and much too quiet for an Agrabah woman like herself. She didn’t mind the cold, but the lack of color and wonder from her flavorful home really affected her. 

 

Jasmine has been in the Northlands for only a few weeks, and she already craved her home more than anything else.

 

She knew that she should’ve been praising, as the advancement towards Shirabad by the Czar’s troops was an important victory.

 

She also should have been celebrating, as of that very moment the Sultana has not received any sort of reprimand from the supposed god Mot for not wishing Jafar’s power away.

 

And finally, she should have been celebrating because she had been able to abandon the slight pity or indifference she held for Jafar that night. In fact, she was hardly even talking to him once again, unless it was political meetings with the Czar whom Jafar had annoyingly bonded with. To Jasmine, it was only for the best. She had come to realize that maybe he was useful as her disguised husband for politics, but that was all.

 

They didn’t mix, Jafar and her. So this was for the best, truly is was. Even if she had to convince herself it was...

 

Striding through the snow-covered cobblestone streets, Jasmine was greeted with many unhappy and indifferent stairs from the people of the Northlands. Many were not used to seeing outsiders, especially from the south like her. As if the memory of Agrabah visiting had been wiped away from the Northland’s memories, they treated her like a stranger or invader. 

 

And yet, Jasmine held her head with pride. She knew her worth, especially as of the last few weeks. And her worth was far more expensive than their hateful stares could buy. 

 

Snow started to float from the heavens, prompting Jasmine to cloak her head with a porcelain white, fur embroidered cloak that she had been given just that morning. Tucking her icy hands into the set of fox fur hand muffs she was given, Jasmine approached a frozen garden away from the indifferent Northlanders. It seemed to be an abandoned palace wonder, the garden.

 

The spruces that grew in a circular ring were frozen with frost, catching every slight glow from the sun between the clouds and projecting spectacular rays of color on the path she walked. Along with the spruces, there was a frozen fountain of two lovers in an embrace.

 

One was carved with tears while the other had a knife protruding from its abdomen. ‘A terrible sight’, Jasmine wondered sadly. And yet, from the statues had vines of white melancholy flowers adorning them beautifully. They were in shades from white, blue, and even the lightest of pinks and purples. Jasmine chuckled in the quiet, winter air. ‘Here’s the color that was missing.’

 

Brushing off a patch of crumbling snow from a nearby bench, Jasmine sat to admire. The bristling cold breeze tickled her cheeks, and she smiled at the peace and beauty of her surroundings. Her mother would’ve adored this garden, it’s a wonder she never saw it as a child. And yet, maybe it was abandoned on purpose. Maybe the Northlanders cared not for the color or the peace, and just the cold and unsaturated grasp of money and politics. 

 

Jasmine sighed and closed her heavy eyes, allowing the snow to dance softly onto her skin and the peace of the garden caress her. It was odd, she adored the bustling streets of Agrabah, and yet she felt happiness in the garden all the same…

 

“You really are so predictable, Sultana,” a familiar voice interrupted with a smirk in his tone. 

 

Jasmine frowned and opened her eyes, startled. She saw Jafar, completely dressed and devoid of color like he always seemed to be except for the small, crimson accents. She groaned and shook her head. “I finally find the one part of the kingdom where I feel...homely. And then you show up!”

 

Jafar laughed, but it wasn’t bitter. Only teasing, yet it still didn’t make her feel less annoyed. “How did you expect to avoid me for so long, again?”

 

“What, are you stalking me now?”

 

“I wouldn’t even need to be a stalker to realize you’d be here, the one place that doesn’t fit in here, like us…” he trailed, admiring the garden itself.

 

“Still, why’d you find me? Why do you even care, Jafar? You’re all powerful, you’re free to roam this castle as am I,” Jasmine snapped, causing his smile to fade. “We don’t need or want to speak to each other. Have you missed tormenting me, is that it?” 

 

The man sighed and turned to admire the statue. “I only did that to protect you.”

 

Jasmine laughed now. “I thought we were over this. Stop making those silly excuses for something inexcusable.”

 

“It isn’t an excuse, Sultana, it’s simply a reason. What I did wasn’t my proudest moment. But the reason wasn’t against you,” Jafar replied, his jaw clenching and his eyes oddly foreign again. Jasmine shook her head in denial, yet she slowly could garner what he meant. It clarified the hurt, even if it didn’t bandage it. “So let’s say you were protecting me, wanting me to back away from the throne a year ago. And for what? So you could usurp and I would be out of your way? How’s that protecting me?”

 

Jafar was caught in a complete, trance like state, blinking ever so slightly. Jasmine shrugged and rose from her seat. “You said those things to me so you wouldn’t have to slash me down like all the others that were in your way?”

 

Jasmine had paused, almost as if to double check with him that her facts were right. Taking his silence as a yes, she continued as the snow began to fall heavier where they stood. “Okay, I can see that from you. But why continue, even after I wasn’t a threat?”

 

Jafar’s eyes met her now, and she wanted to look away from the unresolved pain that was showing through them. “I was angry at you, releasing me. I thought you were traveling down the same path I did. Seeking magic to solve your troubles. The feeling of absolute power has satisfied a part of me, but the other part craves more, and you’ll never be satisfied.”

 

Jasmine couldn’t believe what she was hearing. For the first time in so, so long, Jafar’s motives were making slight sense to her. Not only that, but he seemed to almost regret what he’s done, even if he couldn’t admit it.

 

There was something in him, something she remembered from the boy she saw stealing bread. He may have been evil, but the child would always be there inside of him.

 

And Jasmine found herself now not as horribly angry or bound by hatred to him, even if she’d never admit it out loud. What he has done was terrible and unforgivable, but he’s at least much more clear to her now.

 

“I won’t admit that I was wrong, though. And I don’t take back what I did, I just couldn’t have you...see you...doing the things that I’ve done.”

 

Jasmine swallowed hard, blanking her expression as much as she could. “I understand, and I don’t forgive you. But I’m glad to finally receive clarity. And now that I am clear, I trust that since you see my disregard for absolute power, you will not insult me? Are we clear?” 

 

Jafar nodded blankly, his lips parting ever so slightly. “Very, Sultana…”

 

They stood in silence then, and it wasn’t as uncomfortable as she’d like to admit. He wasn’t staring at her with devious content or anger, it was blank, slightly indifferent and pensive. Something was different about that moment between them, like they were more weightless than usual. She still didn’t like him nor did she forgive him, but it was almost a relief to find out why he is the way he is. But that wasn’t all, something else was twisting inside of her. Something...else indeed.

 

Jasmine drew away from his stare, feeling sheepish and at a loss of words from the moment. Feeling his eyes remaining on her, Jasmine turned towards the statue, making out the words of the snow covered plaque. “‘Chto-to nastol'ko kholodnoye, chto gorit.’ I wonder what it means?”

 

“Something so cold it burns, Sultana. The first Czar hated his wife for her betrayal, but that hate shifted into love when it was too late,” Jafar spoke, his tone flat. “It’s in their history, a horrible tragedy. Just like your mother and father’s…”

 

Jasmine looked away, pained by the memory of her mother’s death. She had gone in the square of Agrabah once, unprotected, which led to a mob of thieves robbing and doing other unspeakable things to her. She died from blood loss with no one to help her in the bustling streets of Agrabah, which was why Jasmine was never allowed to leave the palace. She hadn’t a clue who the thieves were as they were never caught, Jafar even going as far in rage to blame Shirabad. Now, she actually wondered if he was right-

 

Just then, Jasmine caught an ominous face of a man staring at her from behind a spruce outside of the garden. As if a lightning bolt struck her spine, she a jolt of energy paralyze her into place. She knew this man, unexplainably. He was familiarly terrifying, inducing the greatest fear she had ever known into her heart.

 

“I should have watched my words, Sultana,” she heard Jafar mutter. 

 

And as if on cue, she blinked and the devil disappeared, leaving her grasping and reeling. “Will you excuse me?” Jasmine muttered shakily, unaware truly of Jafar’s words. He tipped his head in the corner of her eye and she turned to leave. 

 

Who was the man? She swore she had never seen that face in her entire lifetime, yet the haunting specter struck her as familiar. 

 

Was spending too much time in the cold of winter getting to her head?

 

Or was she going insane?

 

Was she already mad?

 

If not, who or what could that man...that familiarly terrifying man...could have been?

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Jasmine twirled the waterfall of hair that draped over her shoulder. She sat in front of the porcelain white dresser in her chambers, applying her jewels and other accessories for the night’s banquet held for the Northland’s victory.

 

She insisted to the Czar earlier that there no need for a party, remembering the last party she had prompted war from her once ally. And yet, he insisted otherwise. As well as Jafar, yet she hadn’t seen him for the rest of the day. Jasmine felt slightly guilty for how she brushed him off, not even bothering to correct his assumption that he was the one who upset her. 

 

He wasn’t avoiding her, no.

 

She just remained in her chambers for the rest of the day, the servants tending to her every need and chastising her for being out in the wintry weather for too long.

 

Now that she finally was alone, she could prepare for the banquet, and whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, she also desired to see Jafar again. To possibly apologize for her behavior at the very least, as they weren’t seemingly at each other’s throats anymore. 

 

She didn’t hardly adore him, but he didn’t leave her with a pit in her stomach and cause her flesh to stand on end. 

 

Jasmine pursed her lips while she gazed at her reflection.

 

She saw a woman, dressed in a dark blue gown that was embroidered with gold thread and accented with white fur.

 

A necklace that had a sapphire cut rose pedant graced her collarbone, and from her ears dangled white pear-shaped diamonds.

 

But the problem was that she didn’t recognize the woman before her. Her eyes were far more soft, her smile was warmly genuine, compared to only a few weeks earlier. 

 

But what had changed within her?

 

Was it the progression and victory?

 

And if so how was it that she forget her anxious frets towards her promises she wasn’t going to go through with the supposed god Mot?

 

Something powerful, that was for sure. She just couldn’t figure out what yet.

 

A sudden knock brought her attention towards the door, and she rose from her chair with the same, joyful feeling she wanted to treasure forever…

 

“Welcome, Sultana of Agrabah! All rise!” The Czar greeted as she entered through the far left corridor with a guard escorting her. She smiled and tipped her head, and clapping arose from the three sided table with all the nobles and rich of the Northlands. She could feel their stares but one in particular made her nervously fill with sheepishness.

 

Jafar.

 

Dressed almost completely in black and gold, his eyes were cemented onto her. His lips grew into a half-smile when she approached, and she found herself rolling her eyes and pulling slightly at her draped hair. From what she could see, he didn’t seem as upset with her as Jasmine worried. Not that she cared too great...

 

“All may be seated,” the Czar instructed as Jasmine got to her chair.

 

The table had ivory colored cloth and polished gold plates, all adorned with precious and rare fruits or gourmet dishes that she had never known to exist.

 

The guests were all definitively proud of the Northland, as they dressed ardently and richly in the darkest shades of blue, lightest of golds and whites.

 

They all began to chat amongst themselves, slipping small glances over to her and Jafar while they awaited the Czar make his grand toast. She lowered her gaze to the table, feeling unwelcome from the guest’s critical stares. It was truly inescapable, the hatred and bigotry was for her. In Agrabah, the brother and sister, and the Northlands, they all hated or felt indifferent towards her. No matter what choice she made or what foot she stepped out first with, she was never enough for them. Not even to her own father or even her husband, who would rather leave to vast countries than stay by her side. And now look at her, the powerful Sultana Jasmine, practically alone and hated in the world.

 

Well, maybe not all of the world. Jafar disliked her, mainly because they were in old friends, turned competition, turned...something else. Speaking of, what were her and Jafar? A master and a servant? Reluctant and bitter allies? Enemies fighting for one goal? She wasn’t even clear on what he was fighting for or why he remained to go beyond what she’d expect from him, all for Agrabah. She remembered him calling it his home, and maybe that much was true. But something had happened to him while in the lamp, or maybe he had always sought to protect what he cared for, he just never showed it correctly or was able to show it at all.

 

Wait...

 

...Did that mean he cared for-

 

“Sultana?” She heard the Czar interrupt her wandering thoughts. Jasmine realized he must have been talking or addressing her in some way, as the guests around her either smiled smugly or chuckled at her disconnection. “I apologize, Czar. Forgive me,” Jasmine muttered, embarrassed at how foolish she had been. “No need to apologize, Sultana. Are you alright?” He asked her, and to her utter dismay she felt Jafar’s eyes on her now thanks to the Czar’s words.

 

She knew he blamed himself right away, so she placed her hand on his and smiled back to Czar. Jafar has tended immediately at her touch, almost as if he had turned to stone. Even Jasmine herself felt odd from her sudden decision to reassure him. And yet, she couldn’t return from her decision now, as the guests already eyed her suspiciously at how strained her and her supposed husband seemed to be. She wouldn’t let them have the satisfaction of her confusing discomfort with Jafar. Not when that was the only puzzle she still had remained unsolved. 

 

“I haven’t felt better, Czar,” she beamed, feeling Jafar relax his tensed hand beneath her palm. “In fact, I’d like to thank you for recognized your pledge to Agrabah and helping our country in these desperate time!”

 

Jasmine was sure to fuel the reminder of the Northland’s pledge to Agrabah for all the guests to hear, as if she were reminding them that despite their bigotry, her country was above theirs

in this kind of matter. And she’d remind it to them as much as she possibly could if she had to.

 

“Splendid!” The Czar cried cheekily, filling the void of the room as everyone was uncomfortably silence at Jasmine’s last remark. “Let us begin with a toast and some music!”

 

He began to ramble on to the Northlands how this was not only a victory for the protection of Agrabah, but of their country too. And through the entire toast, Jasmine found herself still tied in hands with Jafar. She didn’t enjoy it, but it wasn’t disgust that she felt. No, something else that made her incredibly uncomfortable started sinking into the pit of her stomach like an anchor. 

 

And she couldn’t decide whether she could accept it or not-

 

_Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath hitched in her throat. Her lungs felt like they were slowly being crushed in that moment, like she was paralyzed once again._

_‘No...no, no, no!_

_‘Not you!’_

_‘Not right now!’_

_And suddenly, as if on cue right again, there he was. The same man from the garden._

_Mockingly smiling at her, he was the only thing she managed to see ever so clearly while the rest of her world blurred and froze. He wasn’t far from where she sat, only a few feet away with darkness looming behind him like fog._

_“Don’t think I forgot, Sultana…” an echoing voice boomed throughout the palace, yet strangely not from his mouth as it only disturbing grew bone breakingly wide._

_Jasmine’s mouth hung open in sheer terror, as if she were drowning and she couldn’t push back against the crushing water. As she continued to suffocated, he neared her with his voice continuing to ring._

_“Don’t…”_

“Sultana, are you alright?”

_“Think…”_

“Sultana?”

_“I…”_

“Jasmine?”

_“Forget.”_

 

And with a blink of an eye, it all disappeared, leaving Jasmine breathless and in tears. She gasped at the sweet sensation of air, not noticing entirely that Jafar was furiously trying to calm her down. His hands gripped hers in panic, and she swore she had never seen him so...vulnerable.

 

But she couldn’t dwell on that right now. Too many people were staring and beginning to whisper again.

 

She needed to be alone, she needed to think.

 

She couldn’t be surrounded by these people right now. She had to get out. 

 

“I-I…” Jasmine gasped, her voice hoarse from the experience with the man. Jafar watched her carefully, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I need to be alone again.”

 

“Sultana-” Jafar began to stop her, but she drew away and stood up, not caring for an excuse from the Czar. She needed to be away, away from them.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Jasmine sat on the balcony bench later on, finally crying all the tears she could allow herself in the blistering cold weather. This was a vision from Mot, it had to have been. And he still remained patiently, yet ardently waiting for her to fulfill her promise.

 

What would be his next message? 

 

Would it be something more indescribably awful?

 

She couldn’t wait around to find out, she had to think of something quick, which hardened her heart to think of at all.

 

Arising from the frozen bench, she returned feebly back into her chambers, seeing Jafar, strangely distraught, awaiting in the middle of her room.

 

The man had looked as if he was awaiting her to enter back into the warmth of her own room, earning Jasmine’s slight respect for allowing her lonesome. Jafar; however, looked less than happy to have allowed it. In fact, he seemed completely furious, but she couldn’t see it being her he was angered towards. 

 

Jasmine shook her head and approached him slowly as he watched her unblinkingly. 

 

“This isn’t about earlier, Jafar. I promise you it isn’t,” the Sultana muttered softly, yet she could see in his dark brown eyes the disbelief. 

 

Jasmine presses her lips into a thin line, repressing the urge to let her eyes shed another tear. “You have no reason to blame yourself…” she trailed, closing in the space between them more and more. He stared at her blankly, his jaw twitching as his gaze fell away from hers and to the ground. 

 

She could see it again, the small child that feared the rats of the streets and the men who wished to do him harm. And it wasn’t a flicker, no. The child was right in front of her, scared silly out of his small mind. 

 

Almost instinctively, Jasmine rested her hand on where his heart would be, causing him to stiffen as he did earlier. She captured both of his eyes in the truthful stare, watching him closely and curiously at how he began to relax within the minute’s timing. Shakily exhaling, Jasmine spoke to him.

 

“I don’t know how I can prove to you it isn’t, you just have to trust me. I may be sounding hypocritical, since both of us practically hate each other-”

 

“I don’t hate you…” Jafar spat through gritted teeth. 

 

Oh. 

 

Jasmine met his eyes, in fear of what she had just done. To her horror, there were already two shining tears striking his cheeks like a canvas, as if they had begun from the moment her hand had grazed his chest. The Sultana wanted to protest, realizing her error too late however. Jafar had already turned away from her touch and glided to the doorway, the slam of the door causing Jasmine to wince in sorrow. 

 

Gasping in rage and frustration, she fell to her knees and wept, and never in her life had she felt so alone and so...completely and utterly full of something far too vast for her to comprehend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow okay so LOTS of stuff happened here. jasmine isn’t in love as of right now, but something definitely *IS* shifting within her. even if she still claims she hates or dislikes him. they got some clarity but jasmine is starting to begin to see the effects of her actions more on jafar, and who knows? maybe she’ll come to realize that he is indeed in love with her (keeping it canon like marwan kenzari said)! anyways, i apologize for broken english or if anything was weird or confusing! regardless, i hope y’all enjoyed!! :)))


	9. Undying Love For...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine actively seeks out Jafar, and she comes to terms with so many broad feelings she once pushed away. Yet more troubles begin to form for the two with news that rips Jasmine in half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for very graphic depictions of blood and torture towards the end!

“Grand vizier,” Jasmine spoke, approaching Jafarthe upcoming morning.

 

He had been talking with the Czar’s advisors to plan another tactic when she came in, unusual for the apparent time of day, however.  

 

When Jafar had seen the Sultana approaching him, he waved a hand to the Northland advisor with calculatingly disappointment. She could gather for the most part that Jafar had been upset about her accusation, yet why the to maximum was still distances away from her…

 

“Yes, Sultana?” He replied, exasperated. Jasmine’s eyes narrowed toward the advisor, who had finally exited the common room thus allowing her to speak freely. 

 

“I’ve been thinking about-” Jasmine said exhaling, until Jafar interrupted her with spite.

 

“-What you had said?” Jafar raised a brow and pressed his lips together. Jasmine nodded, meeting his eyes carefully and ashamed. “I know why you said it.”

 

“You do?”

 

“You want me to hate you as much as you hate me, saving yourself any shred of guilt,” he concluded, his features softening into his typical slick and unreadable mask. But she could still see that same foreign emotion hidden in his eyes, making her content that he couldn’t hide at least one part of himself from her all the same. 

 

And yet, aside from her keen eye she still felt like his theory was neither right or wrong, as she still couldn’t figure out herself why.

 

But then, maybe he was correct. The Jafar she knew was almost always ten steps ahead of a regular person, heavy focus on the word almost. Yet maybe he was correct here, but she wouldn’t admit that to him or herself.

 

“I...I…” Jasmine stuttered in confusion, and Jafar smiled. “Quite a scheme, Sultana. But also quite cowardly as well.”

 

Jasmine’s jaw dropped and she dryly chuckled. “Excuse me? I…”

 

Jafar awaited her reply, with his annoyingly victorious smug smile. Yet his eyes still seemed all too pained and foreign to be completely confident.

 

“I am not a coward, Jafar. You would watch your tongue next time, or-”

 

“You’ll put me back into the lamp? Yes, I’ve heard that boring threat from you at least every day now. And yet, here I still am. Perfectly fine.”

 

“Are you? You seem very discontent about my hate towards you. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how reasonably justified it is,” Jasmine growled, Jafar’s smile fading. 

 

“Maybe if you weren’t so hypocritical, I’d see how justified it was. Now look at you…” Jafar trailed, lowering his gaze from hers. 

 

“Now look at me…” Jasmine repeated, watching him closely and confusingly. 

 

They stood for what felt like an eternity, the only sound being the graceful breeze outside the palace windows with the muffled sound of Northlanders walking by. Jasmine had forgotten about what she originally had intended on saying to him, perhaps an apology and...and…

 

And then what? What did she expect to gain from it? To make peace with him? Why did she want that? It was easy for her to accept his open admittance to not hating her, but not this. 

 

Her brain continued its cat and mouse game of her indecisive...feelings...toward this man. And Jasmine thought for sure she felt like she had reached a solid theory of what she felt only the night before. That she only disliked him.

 

But now, Jafar wanted her to admit it.

 

He had figured her out, but how could she confirm or deny what she felt to him if, even after a night, she felt the pit in her stomach rapidly growing. Perhaps she disliked the fact that it was harder to hate him, not the sole fact that it was Jafar himself.

 

Maybe she disliked what he had done, but couldn’t exactly hate him anymore for it. 

 

What he did was inexcusable and wrong, but she was afraid that she had been able to look past that old part of him for the sake of the boy she used to know. And she didn’t mind it, but now she was left in pure confusion.

 

Maybe that was alright for now, to feel dislike at some points and indifference at others. After all, did it truly matter in the end? 

 

“I...I don’t hate you, Jafar,” Jasmine whispered, swearing on her life she saw his eyes widen ever so slightly. “But, I can’t admit to you what you want me to. I’m not sure what I feel anymore, especially not right now of all ungodly times…” she trailed, chuckling emptily while staring at the floor. 

 

Jafar, after a minute of what seemed to be his own processing of each word, smiled ever so small. “I wasn’t expecting that, but I believe we are mutual. Like I said, perhaps we aren’t so different from each other…”

 

Jasmine smiled and shook her head. Maybe, indeed, they weren’t too different after all.

 

“I just have one question though, Jafar…” Jasmine trailed, her smile fading. “Why are you rejecting your...true...form?”

 

Now Jafar’s smile faded, and he looked as if he were without a solid, explainable answer. She knew she had hit a tender spot, guessing from the deep frown on his face. 

 

“I’m not rejecting it,” Jafar muttered cooley. Jasmine knew he was lying, but before she could protest Jafar had already turned away from her.

 

Rolling her eyes and grabbing his arm, the Sultana prevented him from leaving yet again. She couldn’t let them keep going on like this, switching from bitter to sweet everyday they spent together. “No, Jafar. You are rejecting it. Why?”

 

Jafar, who seemed to have the very words caught in his throat, stumbling backwards as he stared in disbelief.

 

Her hand remained on his arm as she positioned him back in front of her. “Tell me. There has to be a reason for why you didn’t present yourself, your true self, the night you were freed. I see your glowing eyes ever so often, but you’ve become a master as concealing them too…”

 

Jafar met her eyes now, his lips parting with once again no formidable explanation to give her.

 

“But why?” She whispered, shaking her head. “You said you didn’t regret the power, but it seems that was a lie. Why lie about it to me though?”

 

“I couldn’t even accept it myself...” Jafar replied, the sure clarity in his voice startling her.

 

“Accept what?” 

 

“...That I don’t want this. It’s not enough for me anymore.” Jafar whispered, noticing his fists clenching as anger rose in his voice. Jasmine suspected it, that Jafar wasn’t content with the power. Or at least some part of her did, and she couldn’t find one surprising thing about this revelation. Absolute power was never enough, her father learned that the hard way when her mother was lost, and now Jafar.

 

Yet, what made him realize that power wasn’t enough for him? What else could there be-

 

“Sultana, we have dire news,” the Czar interrupted, trudging into the room with bloodied and battered warriors as his entourage. 

 

Jasmine drew her hand away from Jafar’s arm, her heart rate increasing as she studied the injuries of the warriors behind him. “What has happened?” She asked, her nervous voice betraying her. 

 

Something was wrong, something was so, inexplicably and terribly wrong. 

 

“We regret to inform you…”

 

Jasmine felt her breath hitching in her voice, her pulse rising to the side of her throat in a rapid punch. “...Yes?”

 

“Your father was found executed in the streets of Agrabah.”

 

Jasmine’s heart stopped.

 

No.

 

No!

 

It couldn’t be possible. It simply couldn’t. 

 

It wasn’t, she refused to admit it. 

 

“Is...there a body?” Jasmine croaked in despair. They didn’t need to finish; however, as Jasmine caught sight of more warriors from behind the partially open door, carrying a figure with a bloody, grotesque linen cloth covering it. 

 

Jasmine’s mind and soul felt thrown into crashing waves, drowning and choking beneath every detailed strike of pain that hit her in the moment. She felt her cheeks growing alarming hot and her voice was shattered like glass, any time she tried to mumble even the slightest comprehensible word, her throat felt as if it were bleeding. She could hardly feel her palms, as if they had been severed or broken from her arms. And as much as Jasmine felt like every muscle or bone inside of her turned into concrete, her legs felt like they could cave any minute. 

 

Her surroundings began to blur as tears clouded her eyes and her sense of hearing diminished by the second. Faintly, she felt a strong grasp steady her with muffled orders being thrown back and forth. 

 

Raising her head slowly to her right, she saw Jafar, tears in his own eyes and his jaw clenched. Jasmine shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks and across her neck and collarbone.

 

This was all her fault, she should’ve heeded Mot’s warning that he would continue to destroy anything and everything in his path when she couldn’t comply. And now her father was dead. 

 

Her own fucking father, lying on a stretch after being brutally and shamefully killed in front of her own people, and Aladdin.

 

Jasmine’s eyes widened in terror as she sunk to her knees, regardless of Jafar’s grip on her arm.

 

What horrors could he be facing? If her father had been killed, Aladdin was next. And one by one, the remaining people she loved would be squashed like flies as Agrabah lost its hope in her. 

 

And not only Agrabah, but everyone. Her father would have very well gone without a fight because of Jasmine’s inability to make a bolder move than attacking Shirabad. They must be ashamed of her, he still would be ashamed of her in Janna where he rested now. She was a hopeless fool, playing a game without understanding even the simplest of rules. 

 

Jasmine let out a guttural moan in absolute agony, and in the midst she heard Jafar order the Czar and warriors to let them be. “This is all my fault…” Jasmine gasped in tears. She heard Jafar shift to a kneeling position beside her, his hands enveloping around her shudderingly meek body. “No it is not, Sultana. You’re not to blame for this.”

 

“But I am, I didn’t listen to him…” Jasmine lashed with all her pain.

 

“Who?” Jafar demanded, his own brokenness seeing into his words as well.

 

“Mot, I didn’t follow through with our deal in time…” She trailed, and whether or not Jafar believed her was out of the question. She knew he most likely didn’t, propelling her to sob even more fiercely now. 

 

“Sultana, you must return to your chambers…” Jafar offered her in a whisper. Jasmine knew he thought she was on the brink of insanity in the moment, causing her to defy him in spout of anger. 

 

“No, I need to make an advance-”

 

“You need to rest and mourn.” Jafar ordered, and Jasmine stared daggers in defiance. She arose from the floor and shook him away. 

 

“No, I will not. I’ve done enough lying around…” She spoke, regaining her herself in a mad thirst for vengeance and blood. 

 

“You aren’t thinking clearly right now, Sultana,” he shouted in anger, his own bitterness of her father’s death painfully evident once again. “I am done thinking clearly then, if clarity is waiting around drinking wine while people die...my people!”

 

“This isn’t the best time-”

 

“I’m not returning to my chambers! I am to prepare for a final siege, whether you like it or not!” Jasmine exclaimed, and Jafar held her in stone grasp. “You will not!”

 

“I will! You can’t stop me!” She roared. 

 

“Yes I can. I’ll have you locked in your room before you make a decision so easy in your anger!” Jafar barked, and Jasmine pushed him away in perpetual disdain. “You would, wouldn’t you! You think you’ll keep me safe that way, but you can’t! I will make a decision, clearly or un-clearly as I want! I’m not returning to me chambers!” She screamed, her blood boiling and her voice breaking.

 

“I don’t want to do this, Sultana! But you must mourn first-”

 

“I cannot mourn now! This is final. I’m returning to my lonesome to mourn, I…I…” Jasmine trailed, ironic sorrow replacing her hatred for Mot and Hasidic. 

 

Jasmine looked Jafar in the eye, meeting his hatred and sorrow with her own like a puzzle, and together they were no longer indifferent in the moment. “I don’t want to be alone,” she cried, and Jafar shook his head. He was at best concealing his own tears and fury, but it was at those words he let them fall, let his vulnerability seep through the cracks of his mask. 

 

“You aren’t, Jasmine.”

 

She could hear the tone shift in his voice to the same, inexplicable foreign tone. She understood he meant well in that moment, truly she did, but he still wouldn’t get it. He still would never realize that all of the bloodshed, all of these deaths, all of her own fucking confusion, was about things greater and beyond her. Like himself.

 

“I am...I am…” She trailed, unintentionally throwing disgust and spite into her words. Turning away from him, she marched off to the doors that exited the castle to the snowy wonderland outside its doors. “Where are you going?” Jafar asked her desperately, but Jasmine didn’t stop to spare another look of another person she’d eventually have to slaughter. 

 

“To be where I am best...alone.”

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“Come, little flower,” her father would say to Jasmine when she was taken for a stroll as a child into the gardens of the Agrabah palace. Jasmine reminisced of the time her father would parade her around the boundless bush paths and vined walls that stretched like branching veins.

 

She remembered picking flowers from every different wall, collecting them into the biggest bouquet her feeble hands could manage for her mother back in the palace.

 

It was a grand adventure for her, and no matter how tall the grass or the walls towered, her father, Baba, was always with her.

 

Every step of the way. 

 

But with her next step that Jasmine took into the gardens of the Northlands, the snow blew away the ghostly memory with the iciest strike. Tears reddened her cheeks raw and her lip quivered, from the cold or her sadness she could not pinpoint. All the same, she sought the comfort of her lonesome in the only colorful place in this wintry world.

 

“It was all thanks to you. You killed him,” Jasmine seethed, yet she couldn’t tell if that was meant for Mot, or for herself. Nonetheless, Jasmine curled her hands into the fur pockets of her morning coat, the same old dark blue with white fox fur accents to adorn it.

 

Once she reached the garden, the statue of the lovers glared down at her, their tears painfully guilting Jasmine as if they, the most immobile of creations, were to judge her as well. 

 

“Is this what you wanted? You’d think I’d hand over to you the power you want? After what you did?” Jasmine bellowed to the god, knowing full well he could hear every word. 

 

And yet, as if she were expecting even the slightest of responses, the only answer she found was the wind gliding past the frozen branches of the spruces, whose delicate leaves didn’t catch the same, colorful glow as they had last time. 

 

“I won’t bow down to you. You are merciless, a liar! Maybe, I could wish for you to serve me! Or, I could wish you away from existence. Like you did to my father and all of the innocents of Agrabah!” She screamed in blind fury.

 

She understood that by now, perhaps blind vengeance wasn’t entirely worth it. That she could simply wish for protection, but then that would be interfering with a genie’s strict rules of not being able to raise someone from the dead or kill someone. 

 

The genie simply couldn’t make someone immortal, as life and death were boundaries that couldn’t even be crossed by Amm or Allah themselves.

 

So Jasmine understood the rules of wishing, and simply knew that she couldn’t wish away something alive as it still qualifies as death. 

 

And here she was, caught between two pillars. Now not between two choices, but between two battles. Some things that were out of her control. Jasmine was only doing what she thought that her people, her family would need. 

 

Now there seemed to be nothing quite left of either, and worst of all it was as if the decency of the universe or all the lives within it rested on her ability to suffer through Mot’s evil. 

 

She truly felt alone...but maybe. Just maybe, if she had listened to the prophecy Nah’la had said, or at least applied it thoroughly, Jasmine wouldn’t entirely be alone. 

 

Maybe, just maybe, Jafar, the man she firmly had hated and been protecting as much as her own people and family from the greatest evil, could be the only true soul to understand. If she just could trust him, or sort through her incomprehensibly swimming feelings, maybe he could understand. Maybe, resentment aside, he would be the one to fulfill some part of her and she of him, or at least the child she knew was still there within him would. 

 

And yet, it was all still a maybe in itself. Nothing that could surely allow her to know for sure. 

 

But, maybe…

 

Simply maybe…

 

“Maybe…” Jasmine repeated out loud, her brow furrowing as her forlorn tears had since been frozen against her cheeks. “Maybe...maybe someday, now or tomorrow, or even in a year, something could change. Something could change...between us. Or maybe, it could even be simpler than that…” The Sultana trailed, a ghostly half-smile, one full of sorrow and even the slightest spit of hope, began spreading across her cheeks. 

 

“Maybe indeed-”

 

A snap of a twig brought Jasmine’s startled attention to the very left of the spruces that sat ahead of her. 

 

Her breath hitched in her throat, as an ominous silhouette of what seemed to be a person stood just a few feet away from her. She instinctively grasped at the fabric of her coat and slowly arose. It wasn’t Mot, she could tell that much from the black cloak the person wore.

 

“Who are you?” She demanded, the snow beginning to fall heavier which made keeping an eye on the figure a task. This didn’t set right with her, as something terrible seemed to be in her path once again. And there was something horribly familiar about the type of cloak they wore.

 

Jasmine pursed her lips and backed slowly away, In fact, from the unsettling bobbing motion of the figure, it seemed that they weren’t alone either. Four other figures of the same manner emerged from behind the sole leader, brushing past the spruces with the precision of scouts, and she as their target. 

 

“Answer me, who are you?” Jasmine demanded again, receiving no answers but only the shuffling of clinking footsteps against the snow. As she continued to cautiously retreat, she finally began to understand who these ominous attackers were. Their cloaks covered to the brim of their boots, flowing easily in the breeze to allow the armor with the protruding Agrabah crest, catching the peaking sunlight from between the clouds. Jasmine’s heart stopped and she nearly tripped from stumbling in sheer horror.

 

“Agrabah…” she gasped and shook her head. Hasib had to have sent them, there was no other explanation. Her own country, her own soldiers, turning against her for the sake of lies or vengeful betrayal. 

 

Jasmine had to force down her tears of rage in order to speak clearly and confidently. “Have you come to kill me? Your Sultana?” She bit back.

 

Almost simultaneously, they removed the hoods of their cloaks while standing in a sync, horizontal line. “You got half of our country killed, Sultana. You don’t even deserve the title!” The leader sneered, his fellow scouts nodding in agreement.

 

They began to advance closer, circling out clockwise by the means of preventing her escape. 

 

Jasmine shook her head. “This is Shirabad’s fault. You have to understand-”

 

“No, girl! You must understand!” One from her left barked. “You haven’t seen the country, in a month or so since you’ve been away. Child corpses lay on the street, burnt and rotting. People lie in hunger and agony, eating the remaining flesh from their families in order to stay alive!”

 

Tears brimmed in Jasmine’s eyes and she struggled to breath. She could hear the other few scouts gaining feet from behind her, but she best not remove her eyes from the leader, who now pulled out a silver dagger.

 

“Hasib enlightened us that this was penance for your sins. This is your doing, even your own father, our rightful Sultan, was killed because you don’t know your place! You should have just kept your damn mouth shut!” He cried.

 

“Then you would be smart enough to realize that Hasib is no better than I am. He took the throne from Shirabad’s previous Sultan, his own father, out of greed and power. Though you, my own people, think so low of me, please understand. He is not your ally!” Jasmine declared.

 

“Shut up! You know nothing!” One roared angrily, causing Jasmine to wince slightly. 

 

“I do, I definitely know more than you.” 

 

“See there you go again, running your mouth foolishly like the woman you are!” The leader seethed. 

 

As if on cue, the men from behind her lunged for her arms and abdomen. She struggled and thrashed against their power, feeling a sharp pain from near the start of her rib cage where one of the man’s hands clutched. Another hand formed over her mouth while she felt her knees give into the icy ground from a sharp kick. 

 

The leader smiled victoriously, unsheathing the knife from its pocket completely. Jasmine’s eyes widened in fury and terror, struggling harder against the men’s grip. 

 

She couldn’t die like this, she couldn’t. 

 

These were not her people anymore than they were now Hasib’s, or even Mot’s. She knew that full well if they killed her, Mot would send for another to wish away and bring Jafar to his knees for power. She was just a flaw in the system, but she wouldn’t be stopped by a silly knife. 

 

She wouldn’t let them do that to Jafar. 

 

“Look at you, the ruler of Agrabah! A shameful sight, truly. Our ancestors would be hollowing with embarrassment if they saw you now!” The leader cackled, placing the knife carefully against the middle of her neck. She could feel the blade’s sharp metal pierce the first layer of skin, and she held her bravery and defiance against it for as long as she could.

 

“Look at me, I want to see the life leave your traitorous eyes when the dagger runs across your skin,” the leader growled, instructing the men behind Jasmine to yank her by the hair and meet his wicked eyes. 

 

She smiled at him in sheer, wincing bravery, allowing for his triumph to morph into rage. “You’re just a pawn yourself. Running scared behind Shirabad’s influence. The difference between what we do for our people is that you have not honor and I had no choice!”

 

“For the last time, shut the hell up!” The leader exclaimed, digging the dagger into her skin even further now as he was about to slice, until he was interrupted by none other than the enraged and murderously vengeful man himself:

 

Jafar.

 

“Let...her...go.” Jafar seethed, his utterly changed and demonic voice shaking Jasmine’s core as it sounded nothing like Jafar, yet did at the same exact time. 

 

She couldn’t see him from her vision, as the men who held her still held a strong grip on her hair, body, and arms. Yet, something told her it was probably best that she didn’t…

 

“J-Jafar?” The leader asked in amazement. “We thought you were dead! Everyone does!” 

 

Jasmine didn’t hear exact fright in their voices, but almost relief.

 

“I am very much alive, and you _will_ let her go. She is your Sultana…” Jafar roared, his voice growing increasingly inhuman, as if he could break a bone just by the demonic anger within it.

 

The leader rolled his eyes in annoyance and dryly laughed, which she could only tell enraged Jafar further. “Do you even hear yourself, Jafar? You of all people should understand-”

 

“I must have not made myself perfectly clear. I advise that it is in your best interest to let her go.” Jafar inhumanely commanded, and by now Jasmine wondered if it was even Jafar approaching or some monstrous beast in his place instead. 

 

The leader’s last sliver of hope left him, returning to anger and annoyance. “So your different now, that’s clear. But one thing hasn’t changed, and that’s your ever so undying love for the-”

 

The unpleasant sound of bones twisting and cracking emerged from behind Jasmine, and she knew that Jafar had snapped a man’s neck in literally half by just a flick of his fingers. 

 

Feeling the slight release from her abdomen, she struggled against the sole other attacker’s regain to keep her still. She could see the attacker by the leader shift in fear, yet the leader still remained annoyed.

 

“I will not ask again,” Jafar demanded, tossing the other man that cowered behind the leaders back into a spruce, impaling him from impact in a sickeningly wet stab.

 

“Let...her... _go_!”

 

The man behind Jasmine began to whimper in pain, and she swore she could hear every single bone within his body crumbling into pieces if she listened hard enough.

 

This was all too much for her, she felt as if she were going to be sick herself. Whatever was happening to Jafar, she understood why he hid it. 

 

She felt hands loosen from her hair and she nearly collapsed forward into the knife, a mistake on her part as that allowed the leader to latch onto her hair himself and fling her roughly to face Jafar. Jasmine saw him there, his glowing scarlet eyes brighter than ever along with his jaw gritted in the almost absolute inhuman form of rage Jasmine could comprehend.

 

“Look at your Sultana, Jafar! She’s terrified of you, she’s a coward! Is this the woman you want running your home to be?” The murderous leader sneered. 

 

Jafar looked down at Jasmine, seeing the tears that streamed down her cheeks and her neck which had just began to bleed from the dagger’s edge. His eyes immediately began to soften and his jaw unclenched, Jafar’s shame rippling through the air which made Jasmine shake her head slightly, even if it stung from the dagger’s impact. 

 

“No, Jafar…” was all the Sultana could gasp out before the dagger was situated and digging into her rawly cut skin once again. “She’s lying, you know it be true. Isn’t that why you had to force her hand into marriage by threatening? She’s weak, but you’re not!” The leader declared, and Jasmine could tearfully see the sleeping pain and regret in Jafar’s eyes. 

 

She wasn’t the only one, for the leader cackled again at his reaction. “Or maybe you are, even in all your power you can’t escape your own feelings. That’s why you can’t go ahead and kill me, because the slightest movement could slit her throat! And you can’t take it, can you? Pathetic!”

 

And with that, the knife dug into her skin and ran across her neck, luckily not enough on the precision to be dangerously deep, but Jafar didn’t know that.

 

Jasmine collapsed to the ground in a riveting pain as she clutched her bleeding neck with an open hand. Hot blood spilled over her skin and created a sickeningly pink mush in the snow, and Jasmine gagged from pain and overwhelming fatigue.

 

She propped herself up with her other hand and raised her head slightly to see Jafar hollowing in fury, causing goose-flesh to erupt from Jasmine’s skin despite the circumstances.

 

She watched in fascination, pain, and terror, as Jafar had lifted the leader from the ground and hovered him in mid air.

 

Jafar’s eyes were now the deepest of reds, almost solid black as he screamed unforgivingly, choking the man in a relentless, brutal fashion. And as if it couldn’t progress from there, from the man’s lips poured out fountains of blood along with screaming and sickening gurgling.

 

Jafar was crushing him from the inside out.

 

The other orifices of the man’s body spilled blood as well, his eyes popping out from the force of the red liquid that was being spewed from his body.

 

Jasmine watched as the man began to choke and scream amidst the blood clogging his throat, causing her limbs to feel weak as well as her head. Her nausea couldn’t subside after seeing Jafar laughing at the man’s pain, yet she didn’t feel terrified from him entirely. Just from the circumstances around her. 

 

Her eyes grew heavier and her stomach churned viciously at the pooling blood around her body and the man’s, and she let out a groan at the sight of it.

 

There was just...so...so much of it. 

 

So much terror...all because they hurt her, the Sultana Jasmine of Agrabah, in front of Jafar’s eyes.

 

With the overwhelming pain of her throat and the sickness she felt from bearing witness to Jafar’s rage, she felt her vision blur completely and she slipped into the cold, welcoming darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this was a BIG chapter, and i’d just like to say that jasmine’s switching between emotions is normal. she is truly going back and forth because of what he’s done to her and who he used to be. she is beginning to find out that maybe, some day, it could be different from what is has been. and that maybe hope isn’t lost for their relationship. so these last few chapters, she’s kept going back and forth and reconstructing what she believes it to be because she’s confused. i just hope that clarifies to anyone who may be upset or angry that jasmine seems to second guess what she feels. anyways, thanks for reading and i apologize for broken english! :))


	10. The Raven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine heals from her graze while Jafar debates on leaving the Northlands for Scanland, a place at least Hasib can’t find them. In the meantime after the funeral of her father, she begins to suspect many things between her and Jafar aren’t what she truly thought to be.

_ “Be thou my vision…’ _

 

_ ‘...Keeper of thy word.’ _

 

_ ‘To trust in thy mercy…’ _

 

_ ‘...Is to bend with thy sword.’ _

 

_ ‘Be my true fortress…’ _

 

_ ‘...Shield from my foe.’ _

 

_ ‘Keep me in reverence…’ _

 

_ ‘…And lay thy head low.’ _

 

It was a solemn lullaby her mother would sing to her once every blue moon it seemed. It was as rare as winter in Agrabah itself, and perfectly fitting for her current state. She could hear her mother’s crooning and somber voice echo throughout her head in the silent, dimly lit room. Her father typically was against the tune, or any lullabies for that matter, yet especially that one.

 

Perhaps it was its dark melody that was too foreign to be accepted from an Agrabah Sultan like himself, but that was exactly who her mother was. Different, with a touch of darkness that couldn’t be tamed by garish light.

 

Not all darkness was bad, and not all bad was darkness. _‘The witches and magicians of Shirabad would practice deadly spirit conjuring,’_ her mother would say. _‘But with that allowed me to meet my great great jadda when I talked with one!’_

 

Jasmine adored hearing the stories of her mother’s tales from Shirabad and her life there, and with those stories came the same, similar lessons about darkness and beauty. 

 

She had taught Jasmine that a love for deep serenity and finding beauty in sorrow was essential almost, which is why she hounded on Jasmine to follow the riddle.

 

Did the daughter of the Sultan always listen? Not at all, but maybe this time Jasmine could begin to see it, see her perspective, especially from what had happened between her and Jafar earlier that morning.

 

And there Jasmine had been laid, in healing bed courtesy of the Czar and the high demand of Jafar himself. She had been treated with nausea-reducing fumes while her neck had an uncomfortably big linen bandage wrapped amply around her neck.

 

Only a few minutes ago had she awoken from her concussion, no nurse or servant in sight. She blinked and eyed the room, recollecting her thoughts over the hour of exactly what...and who...she just had experienced.

 

What she had been through only hours ago.

 

“Agrabah traitors tried to kill me...Jafar came and slaughtered them in the most unspeakable ways possible...just because they had laid a finger on me,” Jasmine whispered to herself. 

 

What Jafar did was horrible, and indeed terrifying. But deep down inside of her, Jasmine understood that despite the powerful demonic side that laid dormant inside of him, Jafar didn’t want to be what was let loose into the garden that morning.

 

He could never admit it to her or anyone, but he hated that side of himself, he hated the power.

 

Even in the midst of torturing her captors, he broke at the sight of her pain. He hated what they had tried to do to her, but he hated terrifying Jasmine especially more.

 

Which proved to her, without the slightest of falter, that he wasn’t truly the monstrous creature she saw in the garden. It was the power that was.

 

Jasmine chuckled dryly, her throat throbbing in a sharp pain with result. It was amazing how well she took Jafar’s monstrous side as opposed to the other things he had done. Maybe because she understood that this part of him was the cause of something beyond him, something that coarser through his veins but never exactly was his own blood.

 

The other experiences he had put her through were all from the clearest of mind, not the morally brightest however.

 

But he had changed, or he had destroyed that part of himself, and funnily enough seeing the monster he became that morning only proved that to Jasmine. She daughter what was true underneath the mask of lies and knew, with absolute certainty, that Jafar wasn’t evil or wicked, at least not anymore. And with that realization made her begin to understand why…

 

“Sultana?” A nurse squeaked from the half opened door. Jasmine gave a weak smile and beckoned her to come inside with a limp gesture. The timid nurse, who had deep blonde hair and sparkling gray eyes pursed her lips as she only shut the door halfway.

 

“Your husband would like to see you after I change your bandages…” she whispered in a heavy accent. Jasmine nearly caught herself smiling at that reply, yet she the bashfulness and pain forced it away as quick as it came. “Good, I’d like to see him.”

 

As the nurse waddled over toward the cabinet full of trinkets and fresh linen, Jasmine’s smile faded into a deep frown. Jafar blames himself, she could already gather that much. For her attack, and for her terror in the moment. It would most likely be a challenge to convince him that she wasn’t afraid of him, just the power.

 

She knew it to be true, after what she’s seen from him for the past month. And he needed to understand that as well. He wasn’t the beast, just the man.

 

“This may sting slightly…” the nurse mumbled while slowly peeling off the bandage from her throbbing wound. Jasmine didn’t notice; however, as her eyes were now locked on the door, as if awaiting for Jafar to come in. She could hear footsteps approach, arguing rising in tempo as the people neared.

 

“It will take a couple of days to arrange the caravan for the Sultana-”

 

“We don’t have days, we need it now! She can’t stay here!” The unmistakable voice of Jafar coldly barked at what she assumed to be an advisor of the Czar. Jasmine pursed her lips as Jafar and the advisor continued to argue. He was desperate, she could tell, but his thinking was rash. The solution to this debacle was simple: guards could follow her or even Jafar.

 

And yet he wanted to leave? He was that afraid?

 

The answer hit her just then, and she swore her breath hitches loud enough that the nurse took notice will replacing the bandage.

 

Jafar knew that Hasib’s army could very well attack the Northlands while they laid unprotected with their allies in the city of Shirabad. And Jafar didn’t want her to be there, because despite protecting her, he wouldn’t do it again.

 

He wouldn’t do it...because Jafar was ashamed of himself in front of her. Just like she had feared. 

 

“Tell him we require a caravan by the next two days to escort us to the Scanlands. At least there our Sultana will be in better protection...” 

 

“But, my lord-”

 

“It will be done!” Jafar barked, startling the nurse as she rattled the warm bowl of herbal medical water that she soaked the linen in. 

 

The door creaked open to reveal Jafar, and her heart dropped immediately. He didn’t have his elaborate cape or turban on him that he wore every day, and his eyes looked strangely worn and slightly, which was incredibly odd since genies themselves never tired. Was he...crying...over her while she slept? His apparent softening never ceased to surprise her…

 

“Sultana…” Jafar half-whispered, his voice the softest tune she had ever heard. She propped herself against her meek elbows, feeling slight embarrassment for how tired or ill she must’ve appeared. Despite the nurse attempting to keep her down, Jafar through the nurse a cold glare. “Careful,” he commander callously. “Be easy with her. She needs to move limitedly.”

 

Jasmine rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly, swallowing difficulty with her parched throat. “Grand vizier, it was only a graze…” she muttered, his eyes softening when he met her gaze halfway. “You can’t expect to leave this bed until at least two days. I absolutely forbid it.”

 

Jasmine cocked an eyebrow and chuckled dryly. “Who are you, my father? You’re not my authority…” 

 

“No…” Jafar’s tone dropped and his eyes remained unblinkingly glued to hers. “...but I am your husband.” 

 

Jasmine heard the sincerity in his words, as if he actually wanted to believe them, causing her throat to dry and her heart to beat incredibly fast. “Will you, um, excuse us for a minute?” She asked the nurse, who gladly scurried out of the room, leaving Jasmine and Jafar alone.

 

The man then shuffled to the chair by her bed to sit, allowing Jasmine to finally get a closer look at his distressed and anguished appearance underneath his veil. His hands curled into a ball and interlaced ever so often like he was contemplating. He had hunched towards her and his gaze fell from hers, clearly in tremendous guilt. 

 

“Are you doing better?” Jafar asked quietly. 

 

“I’ve been better…” Jasmine murmured, the memory that not only had she survived an attack from her own people but she had also received news of her father’s death all in the same day.

 

Sighing shakily, she fumbled with the cloth of the bed she laid in. “Have you seen his…” Jasmine trailed, not being able to force out the rest of the sentence even if she tried.

 

Jafar lifted his eyes to her now and shook his head. “I haven’t,” he replied sternly. 

 

There was a brief silence until Jasmine exhaled and stared at the cloth again. “I’d like to have a funeral for him.”

 

“It isn’t Agrabah.”

 

“It’s as good as we will get, Jafar. He deserves it while his body is still partially...partially intact…” she trailed, struggling to force the words out of her mouth once again. Jafar shook his head, his eyes glistening briefly. “I can’t believe he’s actually dead.”

 

“To be fair, you did almost kill him exactly a year ago…” Jasmine couldn’t help but add bitterly yet instantly regretted it. Jafar’s eyes fell and he hung his head in shame,  away from hers.

 

“I’m sorry, Jafar. That was inappropriate.” Jasmine apologized, her eyes becoming misty as well.

 

“You don’t have to apologize, Sultana…” he muttered, becoming increasingly bitter and tense. She shook her head, knowing that his anger was not just about her father anymore. “Jafar...I know you think I’m afraid of you.”

 

His eyes shot up in complete surprise and anguish, and Jasmine pressed her lips into a thin line as they quivered. “But I’m not, it’s not you I’m afraid of, Jafar.”

 

His eyes widened and his brow furrowed in deep confusion. “Sultana…”

 

“Jafar, I’m not. I’m truly not…” Jasmine reassured him, chuckling in the midst of her own tears falling. 

 

“But you where,” Jafar protested, his voice rising. “You were...I saw how you looked at me.”

 

Jasmine smiled half-heartedly. “I was afraid in the moment, but I’ve had time to think. That truly wasn’t...you.”

 

“How do you know it’s not me?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“How do you know that’s not me?” Jafar asked, ya misty eyes watering once again. “I’m the man who nearly destroyed all of Agrabah and forced you into marriage because of...because I was...I wanted power. How do you know, Sultana, how?” Jafar asked her, his words stumbling for the first time she had ever known.

 

Jasmine swallowed hard and dryly, her throat aching. “You’ve been protecting me, and you’ve been protecting your home for the past month without any obligation, Jafar.”

 

He remained unmoving, but Jasmine continued after a minute or so. “Don’t you see that? I do...I really do.”

 

Jafar didn’t answer her, and narrowed his eyes to meet hers. “Do you?” She asked him firmly, the shift in her authority of tone surprising even her. He still didn’t respond, in his own little world of denial. She wasn’t even sure if he was even hearing her or his own thoughts, but she would make certainly sure that he would listen to her.

 

“...I do trust you, Jafar,” she said breathless, surprised that she not only admitted that to him, but to herself as well. 

 

His eyes widened and he shot up to face her, scaling his uncertainty against and shred that he could find in her.

 

His breathing heaved now and she held out her hand to him, hoping that he’d take it and let go of his insecurity in the moment at least partially. He stared at her in shock, eyeing her hand and her reaction back and forth simultaneously. 

 

Taking up the courage, Jafar took her hand in a delicate, careful enclose. Jasmine gave him a small smile and firmly wrapped her hand around his, this time around being different from all the times she would cling to him in front of the Northlands.

 

This time, oh this time, was much more different. 

 

As would things be afterwards…

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

There was freshly white snow covering the stretcher of dark oak that held her father. Jasmine watched, in her typical dark blue gown and coat with a black ribbon around her neck to cover her healing wound.

 

She was beside Jafar, the noblemen, the Czar, and the rest of the crowds and crowds of the Northlands as they awaited the Czar and the passing of her father.

 

Jasmine could feel her breath hitching and her heart shattering all over again, seeing the doors of the crypts pried open as to hold the corpse of her father. 

 

The stretcher was escorted towards the crypts from the palace in a row of absolute sorrow and death, and she knew full well this would be the last time in many moons to see her father’s face.

 

Jasmine had Jafar and the Czar to agree to a funeral for her father in the city for a temporary burial until Agrabah was liberated, but she couldn’t help but wish the event away far from her mind as much as she could.

 

She more than ever wished it away from happening, but it needed to. 

 

And now, with Jafar beside her, it didn’t feel as horrible or lonely anymore, praise the gods.

 

...Well, except one. But that was out of the question or statement. Mot would continue his reign of terror to try and find Jafar, with or without her help. She was just a brick between a pickaxe and Jafar. It was for the good of her country as well, not just Jafar, but she felt strangely protective of him.

 

Even if it was unnecessary and uncalled for, considering all that he had done. Jasmine didn’t expect herself to protect him, yet she wanted to.

 

And despite trusting him, Jasmine felt strangely foreign to these feelings. Just like Jafar’s foreignity, another thing that they had alike undoubtedly. 

 

“Here will lie of his greatest honor, former Sultan Fazl ur Rahman, ruler of Agrabah for decades and protector of the Arabian nights,” the Czar proclaimed, even in his own cheeky voice he held some sorrow as well.

 

The crowd all murmured and in the classical Northlander salute, bid their own farewell to a ruler they much more respected than Jasmine. 

 

Two twin tears slid down her cheeks and she struggled to breathe, not bearing the sight of watching her own father slip into the crypts to have his stretcher sealed...forever.

 

She couldn’t bare a goodbye or look at his body one last time, fearing she’d become unresponsive and grief-stricken. But now, she regretted not getting the chance, and it was too late.

 

Feeling a hand slip around her waist, she elevated her head to see Jafar solemnly staring back.

 

Her vision hazed and she lowered her head away. Obligation and the weakness of her own heart allowed her to sink into his touch, however.

 

And it felt odd, but also comforting to allow herself to be this intimate with him.

 

She still couldn’t bring herself to forgive or forget what he had done, but she trusted him now. She truly did, and it felt warming to finally have someone to indeed trust.

 

As the crypt doors closed, Jafar and Jasmine approached it with eyes of solemn and quiet Northlanders all watching.

 

Pulling a single white rose from beneath her dark blue coat, she laid it on the crypt and felt a cracking sigh escape her in pain. “Goodnight, Baba,” she sobbed, “You’ll get a proper burial in your home with your people when the war is done.” 

 

“He will…” Jafar spoke, tightening his arm around Jasmine in reassurance. She nodded and swallowed hard, resisting more tears to come.

 

“You were always a part of our family, Jafar. He cared for you too…” Jasmine spoke hoarsely, feeling Jafar loosen his grip around her as that struck a nerve.

 

“You both were good to me,” he told her, his voice unwavering and cold. His eyes softened when they met hers, and he smiled ghostly. “He would be proud of you, Sultana. As am I.”

 

Jasmine felt her eyes tear and she shook her head. “He wouldn’t, if he knew some of the choices that I’ve made,’ Jasmine wanted to say, yet instead she just nodded and looked away, desperately wanting to tell him of the deal she had made with Mot.

 

Her father would be enraged if he knew she had even fraternized with one of the most vengeful, calculating, and despicable gods for the sake of her country. He’d even hate it more than her finding solace in Jafar, which was the part she was glad to not have to explain. 

 

“And once you reach the Scanlands, you won’t have to worry about masquerading this faux marriage we have anymore,” Jafar smirked dryly. 

 

Jasmine’s eyes met his and she could see that same, foreignity and sadness with the thinnest veil of his typical grandeur covering it.

 

She smiled bitterly, but not enough for him to notice. “I haven’t entirely minded Jafar. You’ve been a great help to me, especially after saving my life…”

 

She saw his smile widened, instinctively making the corner of her lips turn up even more. “Thank you, for that.”

 

He smiled and laughed, turning away. “If I knew better, I’d thought we managed to have a conversation _without_ fighting for once.”

 

She smiled, the most genuine expression she felt in the midst of the snowy hours of sorrow. And yet, as she continued to watch the man, Jasmine saw his eyes drop and smile fade, the veil thinner than ever.

 

The Sultana felt a strange realization and wonder dawn upon her as they awaited the crowds to disperse and leave back to the palace.

 

What would it truly had been like if she had accepted his marriage proposal, if he were changed like he was indeed now? 

 

Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have been entirely opposed to it. Yet that was only a speculation…

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“Your scars are healing fast, my lady,” one of the servant girls perked while applying oils to aid the burning flesh wound. Jasmine smiled and nodded, though her head was off somewhere else. 

 

Despite the circumstances, her father’s death, Mot, her country, and even her own wound couldn’t distract her from one, simplistic thing: she didn't feel alone anymore.

 

No, she didn’t just feel, it was a fact.

 

She wasn’t alone anymore, she could finally trust someone. Her betrayal of Aladdin, Shirabad, the brother and sister, all of that was history now that she finally felt safe, or safer than usual.

 

She was capable of having her own skin to look out for, but she couldn’t say that it wasn’t indeed difficult, or at times terribly lonely.

 

But now, Jafar has earned her trust and it felt...invigorating almost. If only she didn’t have the one secret that could ruin everything, however…

 

“You seem happy,” the nurse chuckled, and Jasmine flushed embarrassed.

 

She must’ve been letting on how inexplicably happy she was, and the nurse looked deeply confused.

 

“I wouldn’t expect you to be so happy, considering what you’ve been through. But...it’s a joy nonetheless. We all must find joy in the hardships!”

 

Jasmine nodded, the sorrowful thought of her mother’s same inspirational motto causing her to frown slightly. The nurse, whose smile faded as well, quickly apologized. 

 

“I didn’t mean any-”

 

“Don’t worry, you didn’t do any harm,” Jasmine interrupted, forcing a reassuring smile. The nurse chuckled, embarrassed, and a tense silent formed in the midst of the conversation taking a turn.

 

After soaking the linen in medicinal herbs, the nurse gently cleaned the wound on her neck before she was to apply the oils. “Hmm...so I hear you are traveling to Scanland?” She shifted, trying to take the subject to a lighter matter.

 

“Yes, my husband and I are in a few days…” Jasmine replied, wincing slightly at the sting from the cleaning. “I heard it’s even colder there than it is here. Surprising, to be honest. At least I hope you enjoyed your stay here, on behalf of the Northlands?”

 

Jasmine smiled half-heartedly, fumbling with a loose strand of hair from her night black hair that flowed down her shoulder. “It was all my husband’s idea.”

 

“Yes, from what I’ve heard, he loves you a lot.”

 

Jasmine, who had mistakenly let her guard down at the wrong words, furrowed her brow. “What?”

 

“He loves you a lot. Or at least that’s what I can gather. I mean, leaving a country all over again just for your wife? I’d say he’s smitten...” she trailed, rubbing her palms with the oils. Jasmine, whose heart began to beat in an odd, ferocious manner.

 

For some reason, the words struck her differently now. It wasn’t unusual for her to hear, especially from other servant girls in Agrabah, that Jafar only had eyes for her. In fact, it caused most of them to gravitate away from Jasmine in pure jealousy, which is why Dalia was her only friend as a handmaiden.

 

But this time, the words affected her differently. She never once believed that he could love her, or frankly anyone, when he seemed to solely want power. But now, now that he had it, maybe it was a possibility…

 

“No, it’s not…” Jasmine blurted out loud. The nurse narrowed her eyes in confusion before chuckling again. “So, it was an arranged marriage then? Well, it may surprise you, but he actually does seem to be in love with you…” the nurse trailed, now watching her carefully.

 

Jasmine laughed coldly, her heart continuously beating fast. “I...I just don’t think he’s the type of man who could love. If you knew him well.”

 

The nurse, who wasn’t entirely convinced, only nodded and smiled. “Well, in a way that’s a relief. The servants here have been ogling him since you both arrived.”

 

Jasmine’s eyes widened and her mouth tasted sour now. She internally kicked herself when the nurse instantly smiled at her reaction as she applied the oils. “It’s also a relief that you’re leaving then? But beware, a husband like that will be a sight for sore eyes from men and women alike in Scanland.”

 

Jasmine, feeling the bitter taste in her mouth worsen, turned away from the nurse and her teasing. “Could you excuse me for a moment,” she brushed her off icily. “Yes, my lady,” the nurse said, a victorious smile still engraved on her face.

 

The nurse skipped out the door practically, and Jasmine couldn’t contain her need to roll her eyes at the woman.

 

She tried to get under her skin, most likely because Jasmine was leaving the country of her home. And all that she said was purely that, to get under her skin. Pure fictitious, nothing more. 

 

...Yet why did Jasmine feel so bitter? Why was this idea of Jafar burning her with questions and...anger? Was she just afraid of losing the one person she trusted?

 

That had to be the reason. The only reason, the only true reason-

 

A flap of feathers interrupted Jasmine’s thoughts and she gasped instinctively. In flew a coal-black raven and glided across the room like a dark ship through the sea in the midst of the twilighting evening.

 

The Sultana watched as it found a perch on the edge of her bed, noticing a peculiar note attached by string to one of its talons, and her bitterness from Jafar melted away to curiosity and slight worry.

 

“Everything okay in there?” The nurse called, to which Jasmine lied in return, carefully approaching the dark bird. “Yes, just a moment please!” She replied, bending down to the talons of the raven. 

 

“What do you have there, little one?” Jasmine whispered, receiving small quips and chirps from the raven whilst she untied to familiar, Agrabah-green ribbon. 

 

Rising up with the rolled parchment, Jasmine watched as the bird suddenly flashed strikingly blue irises before squawking and gliding away into the night, soaring to the south.

 

It was then that she realized the raven wasn’t any ordinary bird, it was in fact a witch’s familiar. But what kind of witch would be trying to contact Jasmine all this way from Agrabah, especially considering the risk of getting caught by Shirabad’s guards perhaps?

 

Unravelling the note, she held her breath as began to read, and what her eyes came across nearly made her knees collapse in on themselves in pure shock and terror:

 

> _‘Dearest Sultana,_
> 
> _It is with best wishes that you made it safely to the Northlands. The grand vizier is imprisoned, but he has not been executed. I cannot say how long he shall remain there. I have been keeping a keen eye on you, and it seems it was right to put my faith in you considering how you resisted such temptations from Mot._
> 
> _You’re also very bright, suspecting that I am indeed involved with the battle between light and dark. I’d also like to apologize for being so cryptic, but my voice is as good as my raven’s, I am a true, whole piece connected with my counterpart. That aside, I can only hope that this isn’t too late for me. That you will bring him home safely. Which is why I ask you to continue to protect Jafar just as fiercely as he does for you. I thank you kindly for watching over my son._
> 
> _— Nah’la.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY CLIFFHANGER! nah’la is jafar’s mom!!! anyways that’ll be an interesting discussion in future chapters. i’d also like to address that jasmine isn’t completely falling in love with jafar yet. perhaps *slightly* but it’s still a little ways. she trusts him now, but in order for her to fully love, she may need to forgive him or open up with that deal she made first! also, the passage at the beginning is actually from a song called “winter’s song” by tommee profitt and fleurie, and i’d recommend a listen because it’s so good! without further ado, i hope you all enjoyed the chapter and i apologize for broken english or weird pacing! thanks!! :)))


	11. Birthdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine’s birthday is coming up in the middle of winter, but the letter from Nah’la lets her discover many more things about Jafar as well as feelings.

He was her son.

 

Jafar was Nah’la’s goddamn son.

 

That’s what Nah’la had meant by her prophecies and riddles.

 

They were all about him, about this.

 

Jasmine felt her throat run dry and her hands immediately drop the parchment in complete, utter surprise. It was all too much, it had been right under her nose for the past year.

 

And Jasmine, who disliked the idea of ever being used or own by another person entirely, could not have hated this revelation any more.

 

But what would happen when Jafar would find out? He couldn’t have known, or if he did he wouldn’t have cooperated with her knowing that his horrible mother was behind so much. So much of what had been growing between them...

 

And yet, was she?

 

That part was still unfathomably concise to her at the moment, and yet it still wasn’t the only puzzle piece that needed to be fit. If Nah’la knew, why did she wait until recently to mention Jafar to Jasmine? It all could have been avoided if she had just told her.

 

Yet then again, she had been telling her. In the oddest ways, Nah’la had been preparing her for this battle for a while. Jasmine was just too blatantly ignorant to listen.

 

“But I’m not,” Jasmine spoke through gritted teeth against her forming anxiety and dwellings of regret. “This is in no way my fault, in any shape or form. She could have just told me truly, now that I know she can actually talk. So it’s not my fault. I the pawn, she the master…”

 

Though that seemed to help calm her boiling blood nearly as warm as the Arabic dunes themselves, it didn’t wipe away the fact that she was also angered at being used as a pawn. And the burning question of why Nah’la picked her continued to eat away at Jasmine’s stomach as well.

 

Why did she pick her, the person in all of the Arabian desert who surely had hated Jafar the most? Or maybe it wasn’t exactly about Jasmine’s feelings, but more precisely about Jafar’s?

 

But what would Jafar’s feelings have to do with a battle between Nah’la and Mot that still centered around Jasmine as if she were a beacon of opportunity? She simply couldn’t figure that part out. She couldn’t…unless...

 

...Unless, she already knew the answer. The reason it was her, the reason Jasmine was being used constantly as a pawn finally seemed to have a partially clear answer, if only she could admit it to herself.

 

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on this, as she had to think quickly.

 

She had to hide the note from Jafar, she couldn’t tell him that his...his mother of all witches and wizards alike...had contacted her and put him into a little game of hers.

 

Most of all, Jafar would suspect that possibly Jasmine was working alongside his mother. She didn’t know that for sure, but she didn’t want to take a step near that risk, especially for something that was nothing more than an alert from something Jasmine already knew about, for the most part.

 

Jasmine wasn’t willing to risk the one soul that would probably be the only witness to dawn in a few months...even if she knew how selfish of her it was. She’d probably tell him eventually, but she couldn’t right now.

 

Not when she didn’t even know how to yet.

 

“Everything okay, my lady?” The nurse called from behind the door again, startling Jasmine back into reality. Picking up the note quickly and wiping away a stray tear, she strode over to her chair to sit once again.

 

Jasmine sighed to contain her swirling emotions and tried her best to cast them as far away as possible from her mind. Crumpling the note in her hands and tucking away in one of her coat pockets, she called back to the nurse. “I’m fine, now. You may enter.”

 

The nurse slowly opened the door, as if preparing for a mass explosion ironically. She smiled sheepishly before approaching the small table and chair where Jasmine was, taking the cloth and twisting it nervously. “If I truly did offend you, my lady, I am sorry.”

 

“No, you didn’t. Truly, I just got caught up with something…” Jasmine trailed. The nurse eyed her with suspicion and a knowing look, making Jasmine internally fret.

 

“If it’s about you and your husband, perhaps you should talk to him about it,” the nurse advised, touching up Jasmine’s wound a few more times. The Sultana pursed her lips, the nurse’s words guilting her more than anything about the very crumpled note inside her pocket.

 

She knew more than anything what the nurse was referring to, but it didn’t matter. Jasmine knew indefinitely that the more she would wait and hide the note from Jafar the more she’d feel eaten away.

 

But was it worth it? It had to be.

 

She needed Jafar right now, one way or another. It was selfish, but not only could she not risk losing him she couldn’t risk not having his powerful influence to aid her against the trifling war.

 

“I don’t think I can…” Jasmine murmured dryly, causing the nurse to give her a look of discontent. “I’m in no position to dictate what you should do, Sultana. But it may be best.”

 

Jasmine sighed agitated. The more the nurse kept pressing her about an issue she had no understanding of the more Jasmine truly wanted to be alone again.

 

Seeing the annoyance she caused Jasmine, the nurse collected her contents and stuck them back into her satchel.

 

“I will be back tomorrow morning,” the nurse huffed, scuttling out of the door and leaving Jasmine alone with the sound of crackling embers from her fireplace.

 

She was going to tell Jafar, truly she was, but not right now. She couldn’t risk losing him, for certainly he would get angry and suspect that she was working with his mother. Even if she was undermining his trust in her, she simply couldn’t risk even the smallest infraction.

 

Not right now.

 

She couldn’t lose him.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“The caravan should be here in a few days. In the meantime, the Czar wants to host a celebration for our time here in the Northlands, if that’s alright with you…” Jafar told Jasmine as they walked through the palace the next day.

 

She wore a black coat this time, the ironic only splash of color she had in her wardrobe aside from the boring shades of blue. It matched with her ribbon she wore around her neck to hide the ugly and gruesome scar, which ever so often she’d catch Jafar glancing at when she wasn’t looking.

 

“I’m not obliged, but I’ve already caused this country so much grief I might as well…” Jasmine added with heavy sarcasm and distaste while they strode.

 

“It’s not your fault, Sultana,” Jafar reprimanded her, and she lowered her head to the ground while they walked. “I know you know that underneath.”

 

Jasmine shook her head and smiled. “It’s not just that. Though maybe I’ll need you to keep reminding me.”

 

Jafar smiled. “You’ll return a hero to your country, they’ll respect you for what and who you are. You’re a strong leader, Sultana,” he reminded her, causing Jasmine to raise her head.

 

“And despite my obvious competition with you a year previous, even I understood that…” he added, slight bitterness in his tone.

 

Feeling slight swelling of guilt again, Jasmine lowered her gaze at his silence as well. “You were at least better than my father, Jafar…” she muttered, swallowing hard.

 

She could feel his eyes skin her over in surprise, but Jasmine only continued.

 

“Though what you did was horrible, you at least knew I was able to get the throne. My father didn’t think I was capable whatsoever, but you did. Ironically, you and a select few were the only ones who thought that of me,” Jasmine sighed, and she could feel his dread nearly melt away.

 

Laughing dryly, she added more. “I’m not thanking you, but you weren’t entirely the worst at hand…”

 

There was another brief silence following her words, but a lot less tense this go around.

 

“Are you sure they’ll thank me when I come back?” Jasmine asked.

 

“If they don’t, maybe I’ll have to make a few…” Jafar responded, and Jasmine truly couldn’t entirely decipher whether he was sarcastic or serious.

 

“Please don’t, we don’t need another war…” Jasmine laughed, causing Jafar to smile.

 

“Don’t think I’ve also forgotten what today is…” Jafar reminded, still smiling slightly.

 

Jasmine pauses in walking, and she groaned internally. She had been so caught up in the current circumstances and her swirling feelings to remember it. The worst possible day of the year had finally come.

 

“My birthday, I know. Please don’t-”

 

“Celebrate? Of course I won’t. I’m not fond of celebrating for something as silly as birthdays, Sultana,” he said in a slick, disgusted voice.

 

Jafar’s eyes softened though when he spoke again. “I did get you something for later, though. Something I think you desperately need right now.”

 

Jasmine rolled her eyes. “It better not be a party. I don’t have time to celebrate.”

 

“Then you’ll be satisfied, I assure you.”

 

She smiled slowly, feeling slightly bashful that Jafar had remembered at least. In all the previous years, he always knew but he never seemed to care.

 

Truthfully, she was never entirely fond of all the bashes and balls her father would throw for her birthday, but it still pained her when Jafar would never care. Or...at least he never seemed to care.

 

Jasmine’s smile faded; however, when they began to walk again. He was doing so much for her, not out of sheer spite or to necessarily make up for what had happened. Jafar was genuinely doing it for her.

 

“Jafar...I truly don’t think of you as below me. Well, not at least anymore,” Jasmine exhaled, her hands combing gently through her long, cascading hair.

 

Jafar looked at her pensively, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I hope I’m deserving of it,” he replied. “I trust in whatever decision you make, Sultana.”

 

Jasmine felt her stomach twist, especially after the words of trust and deserving. It was as if the note in her pocket was weighing her down to the marble floor, threatening to fall out any second.

 

“Do you trust me?” Her voice cracked, and he stared at her, unblinking and foreign.

 

His smile had faded, replaced with the ghost of it. And especially his eyes, which shifted ever so slightly, told her that he was indeed growing aware quickly. He seemed slightly suspicious, and she tried her best to draw away from his gaze. Repeating herself again, Jasmine pressed her lips together and looked him straight in the pits of his mahogany burnt eyes.

 

“Do you?” She asked, licking her lips nervously.

 

“...If I said yes, would you tell me what’s in your pocket?” Jafar asked her, causing Jasmine’s cheeks to flare and her stomach to drop.

 

“There’s nothing in my pocket,” Jasmine blurted out before she could stop herself. She realized too late what she had done, and it was her first reckoning that he truly could see right through her. Jafar’s eyes widened, shocked when the lie left her mouth.

 

If he saw how nervous she was about the note and her own guilt, did he also know about her deal? Nevertheless, what pained Jasmine most of all was Jafar’s deepening frown and disappointment on his face.

 

“Oh, Jasmine. I thought you trusted me…” he added bitterly, his words now full of spite and hurt. She should’ve known she couldn’t have kept something so blatant from him, especially since he’s the most powerful being in the universe.

 

And ironically, here he was, the most powerful being in the universe, completely vulnerable and obviously disappointed at being lied to.

 

“I-I…” Jasmine stuttered, clenching the fabric of her pocket unironically in the midst of the tremendous downfall of their light conversation. Jafar himself, still visibly disappointed, was about to speak again until doors slammed open from the hall that they walked in.

 

Jasmine and Jafar whirled around, and immediately Jasmine’s eyes brightened and a smile of pure joy crossed her face. “Dalia?” Jasmine said in exuberant and blissful shock, her old friend smiling and waving from the doorway herself.

 

“Jasmine!” Dalia exclaimed, walking quickly as the two met in the middle for a heartfelt embrace. Jasmine couldn’t decide whether she wanted to laugh or cry in the complete joy she was feeling.

 

Over Dalia’s shoulder, Jasmine could see the Genie, or the previously known Genie, smiling widely while coming to greet her as well.

 

“It’s so good to see you!” Jasmine exclaimed, nearly driven to tears by the surprise.

 

“Same to you! All four of us are so happy to have made it here!” Dalia exclaimed, and though excited, Jasmine furrowed her brow.

 

“Four?”

 

Dalia smiled and looked down at her stomach, the Genie’s hand patting it softly. Jasmine’s eyes widened in shock and joy, and she found herself nearly speechless for a few moments.

 

“Twins?” She cried breathlessly. Dalia nodded, a huge smile across her face as well as the Genie’s.

 

“Dalia did say she wanted a lot of children, so…” the Genie trailed, beaming.

 

Jasmine hugged her again, this time much more tightly. “This is such wonderful news, Dalia! And I’m so glad you all came! But how did…” Jasmine trailed, before her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open completely. She didn’t even have to turn and face the conniving and disappointed man who’s heart laid waste in the air around her, for she could already see it clearly as if glass could compare.

 

Jafar. This was his gift.

 

She turned to Jafar, and he gave the slightest smile that held the hurt and disappointment underneath from their argument beforehand. Jasmine’s mouth closed and her eyes fell away from his, pausing shortly before turning back to Dalia.

 

Yet, the Genie and Dalia were both displeased greatly by noticing the ex vizier and traitor Agrabah standing only a few feet away.

 

“Jasmine...what’s going on?” Dalia asked, incredibly cautious with her smile fading and turning into a grim expression. “Where’s Aladdin?” The Genie also asked, a frown deepening on his face.

 

Jasmine turned back to Jafar, seeing him awaiting an explanation from her as well, hoping earnestly she’d give him a chance to grow more discontent almost, and all the while his disappointed eyes peered into her like daggers.

 

“Maybe...it’s best we talk about this later. I promise I’ll explain everything…” Jasmine assured her, throwing her a small smile and nod. Dalia smiled slightly as well and nodded, hugging her once more. “Okay. I’m just so happy to see you!” Dalia said, no more than a half-whisper now.

 

Yet in the midst of hugging, she could feel Jafar’s disappointed gaze still persistently fixed on her back. It was incredibly wrong what she had done, telling him that she trusted him only to turn around and get caught in a lie, even after expecting him to trust her as well.

 

She knew that whatever was written on the note paled vastly in comparison to what Jafar truly was disappointed about: the dishonesty and illusion she could be putting up around him. It was untrue, as she did indeed trust him, but he didn’t know that.

 

She just appeared to be like she was a month ago, distrustful and full of spite.

 

Not only would she have to explain that it wasn’t as it seemed, she’d had to explain to Dalia and the former Genie what has happened and vouch for Jafar all within the same day.

 

Her fucking birthday, which still managed to turn out worse even without the normal, garish celebrations of her father.

 

Now this should be fun...

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“So...Shirabad really did attack? And your father truly is...gone? I thought those were just rumors that spread,” Dalia said, shocked and wide-eyed. They sat in the common room at a table with the roaring fireplace being the only other audible noise to drown out the silence that followed.

 

“It happened…” Jasmine murmured, tears in her eyes of shame and regret. Jafar was standing by her side, as he seemed to gravitate to her more than comfortably sitting in a chair opposite the Genie and Dalia.

 

In a way was understandable, yet his stance provided her with his continuous, disappointed stare.

 

“...and as far as I know, Shirabad has returned Agrabah to a slave country, and all my people have either conformed to its conquering ways or have been stricken down. And I can’t help but feel...that I’m partially responsible” Jasmine choked out, feeling Dalia’s hand slide over to hers in comfort.

 

“You aren’t. Trust me, Shirabad is to blame, not you. But it seems at least you’ve gotten a strong alliance going,” Dalia said hopefully.

 

Jasmine’s lip quivered and she lowered her eyes. “I owe much of my country’s safety to Jafar.”

 

Dalia and the Genie’s eyes both flicked over to Jafar, who still stood silently behind her. “Makes sense since he nearly tried to destroy it a year ago,” Dalia added cockily, her anger flaring.

 

“He’s changed,” Jasmine assures her softly, and Dalia seemed utterly appalled. “You can’t actually believe he has, can you?”

 

“I can. He’s done so much for me, without my asking,” Jasmine replied, her voice rising.

 

Dalia’s mouth hung agape for more than what Jasmine was comfortable, and she continuously looked back and forth between the two.

 

“Jasmine, he nearly killed me. He nearly killed everyone, you can’t-”

 

“I’m not expecting you to forgive him, and I don’t expect anything from you, Dalia.” Jasmine interrupted her, the Sultana’s gaze was stern and unmoving.

 

She decided to steal a glance from Jafar beside her, who was peering down at her in confusion and still, that remaining disappointment.

 

“...I trust you Jasmine, more than I trust him,” Dalia said cautiously, swallowing hard. “Which is why...I’m going to have faith that you’re right about having him to guide you.”

 

Jasmine smiled half-heartedly at her friend, now deciding to look up to Jafar while she spoke. “He hasn’t failed me yet.”

 

“What about Aladdin? Why isn’t he with you instead?” The Genie pestered, and Jasmine turned to him.

 

The note felt heavy again in her pocket, and what she was about to say would surely give away to Jafar that whatever was listed on the note was of great importance, and yet she still decided to hide it from him…

 

“...He’s alive. He’s been arrested, but I’ve been notified that he is indeed alive.”

 

The Genie’s worry melted away and was replaced with a relieved smile. “Thank the gods,” he sighed. “Why didn’t he come with though?”

 

“He distracted guards to allow me to leave and find help,” Jasmine responded, a smile creeping onto her face. She’d be forever grateful to him, just like she would Jafar as both helped keep her alive in some ways.

 

“That’s definitely Aladdin, keeping the woman he loves alive at all costs…” the Genie quipped, beaming. Jasmine grinned, but not until her reminisce was interrupted by the sudden slam of a door.

 

Whirling around, Jasmine noticed that Jafar had left the room, and she felt a shard of pain hit her as if the knife had slide across her throat once more.

 

“...Will you both excuse me for a moment?” Jasmine asked, rising from her chair with her eyes still locked on the door.

 

She scurried out of the common room to see Jafar striding down the hall, his black cap floating behind him. Feeling her stomach knot up, she could hardly choke out the words to call him back.

 

“Jafar!” Jasmine exclaimed, seeing him stop dead in his tracks to her words.

 

She remained still, as if she herself wanted him to come to her.

 

But Jafar didn’t turn to face her, and instead spoke darkly with his back all being visible to Jasmine.

 

“You’ve been talking with Aladdin...your husband...is that it? Why hide it from me?” Jafar asked coldly. And in the midst of his words, she swore she heard tinges of jealousy and that same foreignity.

 

“It wasn’t that…” Jasmine trailed, her words harsher than she intended. Jafar still remained away from her, prompting Jasmine to approach him like he was a wolf with a broken paw.

 

She could hear Dalia and the Genie mumbling from behind her door, and she could only guess that they were eavesdropping.

 

“The letter wasn’t from Aladdin. It only included that he was alive for now…” Jasmine muttered, seeing Jafar slightly cock his head to the right.

 

The snow mixed with partial sunlight was the only luminating source in the hall, and from that source Jasmine could see Jafar, even though still tense, was softening. Yet, the Sultana could only guess he’d be enraged more about what the note actually said.

 

“Then what is in it? Why’d you keep it from me?” Jafar demanded, more betrayed than anything. She wasn’t sure how much he did truly believe her, especially since she had lied about it hypocritically.

 

“...Jafar,” Jasmine paused, swallowing hard. He stood, unblinkingly awaiting her to further her explanation for a needed breakthrough that she certainly could have ruined.

 

“D-do...do you know your mother well?” She asked, catching him by surprise.

 

“I...what does this have to do with anything?” He asked, slightly impatient.

 

“Just answer my question, please…”

 

Jafar stood like a statue, and Jasmine was afraid he’d bolt at any given second considering his perpetual grief in his reaction.

 

“Jafar...please,” Jasmine begged after a few moments of tremulous silence.

 

“...I don’t need to know her well for what she did to me. She received her perdue punishment after I sought her out, though. To live for eternity and cursed to depend on something else,” Jafar growled.

 

A raven, her familiar.

 

“If I told you that she cared, or...she seems to at least care, but that I truly had no part of her scheme, would you believe me?” Jasmine asked, her lips quivering. He could simply lash out and leave any second, possibly never talk to her again if he suspected that she was working with Nah’la.

 

Jafar’s brow furrowed, and slowly he rose his head and turned to face her, his eyes glistening. “What are you saying?” He seethed.

 

Jasmine, almost in the slowest of motion, pulled the note out of her pocket and rose it to him. “Your mother, her name is Nah’la. She became my handmaiden when Dalia left, and she always spoke in riddles to me...and now I realize they were about you.”

 

Jafar looked terribly mortified, taking the note ever so carefully from Jasmine’s hand, yet he didn’t unravel to read it. “And you believe what she tells you? Everything?” His eyes were aflame now, yet she could see his struggle in maintaining to keep his true form at bay.

 

“That woman is...she has done unspeakable things, Sultana. You can’t just-”

 

“I used to not believe her, but by now I’ve realized that what all that happened between Shirabad and Agrabah, she tried to prevent. I promise you I wasn’t conspiring for her to somehow betray you. Please...the note will explain, especially considering how we did find each other” Jasmine pleaded in a hushed tone, yet Jafar only turned away from her.

 

Surprisingly, he didn’t react or feel betrayed by her in a concoction of assumptions that she had conspired against him. No, but something else was eating at him.

 

“I don’t care for what she has to say. I don’t care how we did cross paths again. I was just content that we did! But now that I know...now that I know it was all part of a plan…” Jafar trailed, his anger rising.

 

“Even if we did meet again...b-by her...she didn’t make me stay! That was my own choice!” Jasmine exclaimed, causing Jafar’s anger to fall away.

 

“And why...despite everything...have you kept me around? What is the real reason?”

 

Jasmine paused, her cheeks growing hot and her eyes misting severely.

 

She could almost sense Jafar’s timid breathing, or hear the whispering of Dalia and Genie behind the door.

 

Fuck, even Mot and Nah’la were holding their breath at Jasmine’s about-to-be horrid revelation.

 

The revelation she had been avoiding the entire time: her betrayal.

 

“I...I swear I wasn’t going to go through with it,” Jasmine whimpered, her heart hammering. Jafar came closer to her, and it reminded her of the hostility she had seen from him only a month ago, only this time far more hurt and angry.

 

“Go on…” He trailed, his voice lowered.

 

“I...fuck, I know you’re going to hate me-” Jasmine started before truly sorting out her words.

 

“Never. I never would.” Jafar interrupted her, appalled that she would ever say such a thing.

 

Jasmine stared at him, her eyes brimming with tears and her lungs filling with concrete.

 

“I-I made a deal.” Jasmine stammered, and Jafar’s eyes widened slightly.

 

“What kind of deal?”

 

“For your life, in trade for Agrabah’s safety, with Mot. I was to wish away your powers, and Mot would spare my country as he’d gain yours and become the most powerful in all the heavens and the earth. And I accepted…” she croaked out, feeling a release of too many unfathomable emotions all spilling out of her like a waterfall.

 

“So that’s why you have had me around?” Jafar asked, strangely calmer now.

 

Jasmine almost couldn’t believe her ears. Why was he so calm? Did he not just hear what she had said, what she had done? He didn’t even provide as much as a scoff, which worried her far more despite the circumstances…

 

Wide-eyed, Jasmine almost blocked out completely his former question, and felt her respond without thinking again. “You aren’t furious with me? I could have had you killed!”

 

Jafar shook his head and contained his frustration, repeating the question he had asked only moments before. “Jasmine…” he whispered, her stomach clenching at the rare usage of her true name from his slick mouth. “Why am I still with you if you have yet to fall through?”

 

“Because I can’t do it…” Jasmine admitted to the man before her. “I don’t want to do it.”

 

Jafar looked shocked, but he still didn’t cease to surprise her. He was curious now, still betrayed and hurt, yet more curious than anything. “Why can’t you do it? Why don’t you? Even for your people, you can’t kill me?”

 

She knew exactly what he was doing, he wanted to hear her say those few important words, words she promised herself unknowingly almost to never tell him again. Or...never to think them again.

 

Instead; however, Jasmine didn’t comply.

 

“Because whether I want to admit it or not, I need you, Jafar. You need me, for some reason I’m not even entirely sure about. That’s all…” Jasmine quipped, almost harshly, but Jafar cocked an eyebrow with a strange, snake-like glimmer shining in his mischievous eyes.

 

In the midst of the strange calmness and tension that surrounded the two, Jasmine felt her cheeks heat and her heart grow loud enough to be heard from all over the Northlands.

 

“Hm…” Jafar murmured, a sly smirk creeping into his mouth as he eyed her with such precise mystery.

 

Jasmine threw him a look. “What? Are you looking for another answer?” She shook her head, her icy tone climbing up from the very depths of her throat. “There isn’t one,” she ran her words, anger and annoyance accenting every vowel.

 

“We shall see…” Jafar murmured, still smirking with playful yet serpent-like eyes, knowing full well Jasmine wasn’t pleased entirely with his answer.

 

“You’ve gotten all the answers you need…” Jasmine assured him, a bite in her tone that Jafar nonetheless quite enjoyed. “Now, we need to return to our guests, they won’t be pleased with how we’ve wasted their company…”

 

Turning in her Northland patterned and fox fur accented boots, she glided back to the doors only to notice Jafar wasn’t behind her. Pausing, Jasmine looked over her shoulder to see him still remaining cautiously still.  “Aren’t you coming?”

 

“You go. Converse with them as you please. I think I must be excused for a while…” Jafar muttered, blankly with that damnable foreignity again in his tone.

 

Jasmine shook her head. “Why?”

 

“I...seek clarity _alone_ , Sultana. If you’ll excuse me…” he trailed, awaiting her to dismiss him however.

 

The woman’s jaw clenched and unclenched, unsure of what the right reaction was to be towards his uncharacterized statement. “I…” she began, wanting above all else in that moment for him to not leave ironically, not run away again in the possibility he’d avoid her again.

 

But she couldn’t bring herself to do so, no matter what she tried to conclude. She wouldn’t demand from him what he used to demand from her only in the latter year...

 

“...Very well, Jafar. You may go,” she sighed, and with that, Jafar turned away from her, gliding down the hall getting further and further. And he didn’t bother another look towards her or throwing Jasmine even the slightest nod. He simply...left.

 

She swallowed hard, knowing that indeed, she should feel freed by her reckoning between them, but as he got further, the tighter the chains around her body and soul felt as something else...something else she’d dare not to admit…

 

...Something he wanted her to admit…

 

...Was too busy and collectively straining her down.

 

And maybe, just maybe...she _did_ indeed deeply care for Jafar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so, basically it’s NOT LOVE JUST YET. it’s caring. for the most part. there still can’t be that big of any feelings between them until she forgives him, entirely. but that genie and dalia interaction was pure!!! next chapter there will be more, as well as more fluff!! i hope no one thinks i’m moving too fast for jasmine and jafar, since honestly the pacing is where i like it to be. but, that being said, let me know if it bugs anyone and i’ll be sure to see somethings of what i can do!! anyways, i apologize for broken english or anything and thanks for reading!!! :)


	12. There Isn’t A Path Where I Don’t Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Dalia and her husband leave the Northlands, Jasmine receives an ominous threat from Mot, as well as some unresolved feelings within herself...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight tw for descriptions of blood in the chapter!!

“So…” Dalia lingeringly began, her eyes cinching Jasmine that she was indefinitely quite disturbed. The Genie, on the other hand, was seemingly pending on a harbinger to leave, a different kind of disturbance following Jafar and Jasmine’s dispute only moments earlier. 

 

Rustling through the clenched fabric of her coat, Jasmine sat in meek silence. The common room’s light had begun to dim as the pewter snow clouds had blocked any natural light.

 

Though the crackling fire’s warming caress never once failed to comfort her, Jasmine felt almost as if she was in need to douse herself in the flames to stop the algidity of her surroundings.

 

They, or at least Dalia, wanted answers to more than just Shirabad, it wasn’t difficult to decipher that much.

 

Yet, that was the last subject she felt like dancing on, wishing for the balls and bashes of her father to replace the furthering conversation about Aladdin, Jafar, and most likely knowing Dalia, her feelings as well…

 

Dalia always had a keen eye on spotting the farthest corners of Jasmine’s feelings she had practically wrapped in steel. There was no way, or force, that could keep her best friend’s perception from at least glazing over Jafar’s ordeal once or twice. 

 

“...um, dear would you excuse us for a moment?” Dalia finished with a rigid voice. The Genie nodded, side-eyeing Jasmine and her naked guilt all at once, stepping out of the room with a mouse’s sigh. 

 

Jasmine twisted a strand of raven hair that had floated over her burning cheeks. Why did the Sultana have nerve-wracking fear about this, though?

 

Was she afraid of how her friend would view her when she’d say that she didn’t hate Jafar anymore?

 

Would she be disappointed at how Jasmine grown to care for the man?

 

Or...maybe she knew how Dalia would work her needle into the darkest of secrets Jasmine dared not to talk about. The secrets that Jasmine had surely never thought about captivating her until quite possibly now, yet they’ve always been surely lurking. But perhaps, for now, she could safely admit that she indeed cared for Jafar. Whether that was all or not, Jasmine was certain she could admit that much…

 

“So…” Dalia drawled, searching for a place to begin. “...something tells me there’s another reason for why Aladdin isn’t here, isn’t there?”

 

Jasmine wasn’t expecting that certainly, but nonetheless she understood her friend. “No, that’s not it at all! Everything I told you is true it’s just…”

 

“It’s just what?” Dalia whispered, trying to contain any sliver of disgust in her words, but failing. 

 

The Sultana sighed, her throat becoming increasingly dry and her eyes all but avoiding anything other than the scarlet flames of her roaring fireplace. 

 

“...He truly has changed, Dalia. I think I understand why as well.” Jasmine answered after a few moments.

 

Dalia chuckled darkly and shook her head. “Of course he may appear that way to you, Jasmine. He always had a soft spot for you...and you only. How can you be sure, it isn’t just around you that he has changed?”

 

“I already told you the things he has been doing for the well-being of Agrabah, and...for my father,” Jasmine replied.

 

“He does a few simple things for you and that fixes everything he has done, especially the things he said to you?”

 

“It doesn’t fix them, I haven’t even forgiven him yet, and I’m not quite sure I can…” Jasmine trailed, vile bitterness in her voice towards those horrible memories. “...But he’s not power-hungry anymore, the lamp and time alone changed him, or at least his viewpoint, mind you.”

 

Dalia’s lips parted, her deep amber eyes cold with resentment. “...I’m just not sure, Jasmine.”

 

“He killed to save my life, I think that I can give him at least one chance…” Jasmine faltered sheepishly.

 

“I think there’s something more to that than you want to admit. You want to believe he’s like the same boy you found stealing bread from the kitchens so many years ago. But Jasmine, what if he isn’t?”

 

“But what if he is? If you just could see how he-”

 

“I don’t want to see him or understand him! I don’t want anything to do with him! You told us you’ve already used two wishes, we heard you arguing that you don’t want to go through with...whatever that deal you said you made! Then you can’t even make a wish to save Agrabah, or wish for its indefinite safety, because what?” Dalia asked, her voice rising.

 

“I’m scared, Dalia. I’m afraid that if I make my last wish, or give up the lamp, someone else could get ahold of it and do exactly what I was asked to do…” Jasmine muttered.

 

“But you could simply keep watch over the lamp, no need to keep Jafar of all people out of it! Yet you do! I think you just don’t want to let him go,” Dalia reprimanded her, and Jasmine shook her head.

 

“I do care for him, I do. But that’s not the only reason I keep him out of the lamp. He’s been helping me in so many ways…”

 

“Or, you just don’t want to admit that possibly you’re reciprocating his feelings. That you’re falling in-”

 

No. She was not...of all people...saying that. She could understand that maybe Jafar harbored some sort of lovely feelings for her, but Jasmine?

 

No, not ever. Especially not right now.

 

“Preposterous, Dalia. I don’t have time for that. You should know me, out of all people, that I don’t have time for that right now,” Jasmine shot back, incredibly annoyed and oddly...flustered. 

 

Dalia, who gave Jasmine the exact replica of the look Jafar gave her earlier, had her eyes twinkling and her pride evident in the following words, “Fine. Maybe I am wrong. But in the end, you’re the only truth to your feelings, sometimes it’s just not as clear as day…” her voice became grim now. “Yet whatever you do feel for him, my opinion is that it is a grave mistake.”

 

Jasmine nodded, unresponsive to her friend who so desperately wanted her to agree. 

 

“And maybe I’m not, but that’s up to myself to discover…” Jasmine tapered off. 

 

The silence that fell upon the room was completely foreign and all too sickening. Jasmine hasn’t considered, that not only had Jafar changed, but perhaps Dalia had as well.

 

She was far more coarse than the last time she could counter.

 

Perhaps her time at sea with the Genie had opened her eyes, or closed her heart. Perhaps it did, or perhaps it didn’t.

 

Jasmine knew change was inevitable, but Dalia seemed possibly more precise or sharp, and it occurred to Jasmine that maybe it was because she finally had a family to protect.

 

Loved ones on the way in her womb, which possibly shaped her vision and sight about the occurrences around her.

 

Much like Jasmine as of now with Jafar…

 

As her birthday disappeared after the stroke of midnight, the next day Jasmine prepared for Dalia and the Genie’s departure as they walked through the snow blanketed square.

 

The Sultana tried her best to distract her ears from the teasing gossip that her cohorts were spreading about Jafar, all the while she was greeted with stares of discontent of indifference from the harsh Northlanders.

 

“Come to think of it, what did happen to that gods awful parrot Jafar had?” Dalia snorted, causing her and the Genie to erupt into laughter. 

 

Jasmine must’ve not heard them too closely as it was directed to her. Instead, she eyed the crunched, soggy snow on the ground with boredom and distaste. 

 

“Jasmine…” Dalia pestered. “Did you hear our question?” She asked, and Jasmine flushed embarrassed. “Sorry, could you repeat the question?”

 

Dalia smiled again, looking at the Genie with a mischievously teasing gaze. “We just wanted to know what happened to that little bird Jafar always kept with him.”

 

Jasmine rolled her eyes, but she really never thought to ask Jafar. ‘Maybe it was because’, she thought sarcastically, ‘I just don’t give a damn.’

 

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him,” Jasmine quipped a little too sarcastically. The Genie and Dalia’s smiles both faded, and they walked in silence with their stubborn Sultana. 

 

It has been such a long time since Jasmine had spoken to Jafar, or at least it felt that way. He wasn’t angry, or particularly saddened when she last laid eyes on him.

 

Yet, she still felt the strong, uncontrollable desire to be around him.

 

Even more so than perhaps the Genie and Dalia as of right now, but it certainly wasn’t because she viewed them any less. But Jasmine couldn’t decipher what she truly meant, or what she wanted it to mean…

 

“So...I’d like to make you two an offer,” Jasmine began, smiling slightly now. “I’d like to host an aqiqa at the palace of Agrabah for your children when they are born. If you two don’t oblige, that is.”

 

Dalia’s face lit up with joy, and she turned to her husband in gracious delight. “We’d be honored, if it isn’t any trouble!” 

 

She then shrugged and shot her a mischievous glance. “Maybe by then you and you-know-who will have a few to celebrate at the same time…”

 

Jasmine shot her a look of annoyance with wide eyes, whereas Dalia laughed lightly. “I’m only joking, Jasmine.”

 

The Genie smiled and looked down at Dalia with sheer joy and love, unsettling Jasmine and leaving a vile taste in her mouth. The Sultana frowned, as the only person she could ever recall giving her such a look was...was-

 

“Sultana, the caravans are here to escort the guests back to their ship on the coast of Great China,” a few guards who were centered by a Leib addressed the woman and her friends. 

 

“So soon? It’s not even midday…” Jasmine replied while furrowing her brow and turning to her cohorts. Dalia gave her a pitiful smile and shrugged. “We actually requested it, to leave early, my lady.”

 

Jasmine shook her head and chuckled dryly. “But..you just got here? Why so soon?”

 

Dalia hugged her friend, yet it felt like she could’ve been hugging a complete stranger. Jasmine’s eyes misted heavily as she broke away from Dalia, and she stroked the stray tear that had dripped down her cheek. “We will visit again soon, Jasmine. I promise you that.”

 

“But why are you leaving? Why?” Jasmine repeated as calmly as she could manage. Dalia sighed and shook her head, a ghost of a smile appearing across her lips.

 

“I fear we just...we just simply need to go,” Dalia replied, swallowing hard. 

 

Jasmine couldn’t believe what she was hearing, yet in a way she knew what her friend was alluding to. 

 

“It’s Jafar, isn’t it…” Jasmine trailed bitterly, low enough for the guards to not mistakenly hear. Dalia shook her head, her brow furrowing. “No! It’s not him at all, I’m just afraid we must leave earlier than expected.”

 

Jasmine, despite her grueling bitterness and annoyance, forced herself to nod and give a reassuring smile. “I respect your wishes, then, Dalia of Agrabah.” Turning to the guards and the Genie, who had now wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist, Jasmine collected herself in grace. “I wish you both good travels, my friends. May the gods light your path.”

 

Despite the tension, both of her friends bowed and smiled, turning away from the Sultana as the guards escorted them to the edge of the Northland gate, leaving Jasmine bitterly alone.

 

Dalia might’ve said that she had to leave because of other reasoning, but Jasmine could feel from the very tip of even her tiniest bone that the answer was quite clear why she left:

 

It was indeed the relationship that Jasmine had formed with Jafar. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

The Sultana warmed herself by the fire in the common room, watching in grief as the crimson and amber flames danced violently across the wooden logs.

 

She still couldn’t fathom it, why Dalia had not simply understood how Jafar had changed.

 

She had always told Jasmine to give even the meekest of devilish of creatures a chance, yet Dalia was being the opposite of her words.

 

Jasmine countered that it simply could have been the fact that she was a protective mother, but she suspected that it was possibly because Jasmine couldn’t risk Jafar’s safety for Agrabah.

 

Chuckling darkly, Jasmine murmured in resentment to herself. “It’s not about the people of Agrabah and Jafar’s worth. You’d have to be a fool to even trust that the bloody god of death was going to keep his promise in protecting one single city. But perhaps-”

 

“Perhaps you’re simply smarter than them,” Jafar interrupted her, causing her to nearly fall back in blatant surprise. “Which is why you’re the Sultana, and they aren’t.”

 

Jasmine exhaled lightly after her heart stopped pounding incredibly. “How long have you been there?” 

 

“Not long, but I didn’t expect you to be here at such an ungodly hour of the night…” Jafar trailed, his eyes skimming the room. 

 

She sighed and turned away, facing the violent and hungry flames once more. “...I’m not sure I’m smarter than them, Jafar. And it’s quite ironic to hear you say such positive words about me while they are the opposite…”

 

Jafar swallowed and approached slowly. “Even in my most ghastly of words, I still knew you to be stronger than anyone in Agrabah, which is why I was afraid of you as well. Never forget that.”

 

“I don’t have to forget, but I’m still not sure I’m going to forgive,” Jasmine snorted to Jafar slight dismay. “But it still hurts for her to have such a lack of faith in me.”

 

She heard Jafar’s footsteps near her while he pulled aside a chair, making her chuckle at how regal he had always been to the point where he wouldn’t dare lazily drape himself across the floor like Jasmine was at the moment.

 

“Perhaps...she just doesn’t understand my motive. I mean, it could be the fucking Czar, the brother and sister, or even the people who tried to murder me in the gardens and I’d still never join Mot’s offer now…” Jasmine trailed, and she could tell from the corner of her eye that Jafar had smiled and lowered his gaze.

 

“I thank you for the striking comparison between those fools and myself.” He retorted, and Jasmine shot him a look, yet not truly with malice.

 

“You understand completely what I meant, and you’re nothing like them. Not anymore at least.”

 

Jafar’s expression rested now and he laughed lightly. “Perhaps I’m beginning to believe that as well…”

 

His voice sounded hollow, a strange hole had been ripped into it but she simply never noticed before. He was missing something, and not even his slick words could hide that he did. 

 

Jasmine turned to face him, watching as the glow of the fireplace swirl in excitement among his caramel eyes. Propelling herself against the ground, the Sultana pulled up a spare chair as Jafar’s eyes were glued to her every motion. 

 

“...I know your former handmaiden and her husband left because of me, Sultana,” Jafar muttered, yet he didn’t seem ashamed. Only proportionally angered. “You wouldn’t have even needed to murmur to yourself and I still would have known…”

 

Jasmine eased down into her chair, studying Jafar. “I don’t think it bothers me as much as it does you, Jafar.”

 

Jafar’s jaw clenched while he squeezed his eyes closed, shaking his head. “I invited them to make you happy, and they only angered you…” he spat. 

 

“I enjoyed seeing them, I truly did Jafar. It was a wonderful gift,” Jasmine defended.

 

His eyes shot to hers, as if to try and find even a shred of dishonesty. As he did, she studied his. The whole that had taken apart his voice and tone was also startling evident in his eyes, as within them twinkled that damned foreignity she still couldn’t fathom.

 

Chuckling darkly, she turned away from his gaze and again, staring upon the dying embers. “Perhaps their discontent, the war, Aladdin and I’s failed marriage helped enlighten me that I truly will never find a happy moment in my life, so you truly aren’t to blame…”

 

Jafar furrowed his brow and stared at her. “Your marriage with Aladdin failed?”

 

Jasmine eye’s flared in annoyance at his remark. “That’s all you took from what I said?”

 

Jafar stared at her unblinkingly, allowing her to calm her nerves before she could release a fit of tears threatening to build.

 

“...I just want to be happy. I want to be safe. But I don’t think I’ve ever known safety, nor will I ever…” she grumbled, blinking with a tremendous tire that now hit her like bricks. 

 

“You will. Things will be much better for you, Sultana. Eventually they will…” Jafar muttered, his expression relaxing as well. 

 

Jasmine turned to him, a light grin softly accenting her fire highlighted cheeks. “Maybe they will…” she whispered, taking his hand in hers. “...Just promise to not leave me lonely for a whole day, and we can find out together,” she jokingly added. 

 

Jafar had seemed to lose surprise every time Jasmine’s hands greeted his, and instead he smiled serenely, perhaps the most beautiful and truly genuine she had seen in a while.

 

Lifting his fingers, Jafar tucked a small strand of her wavy hair behind her ear, and Jasmine swore her heart was going to burst in calamity and eccentric song.

 

Yet, it was short lived as it had swiftly left, the feeling did. Jafar’s smile had faded and he eyed the floorboard instead of her dissatisfaction.

 

“You should rest, Sultana…” he whispered, his eyes growing sheepish and his complexion, whether fire light or not, seemed flushed.

 

Jasmine found herself in shock for the clearly crystal reason to his decrescendo: he was flustered. Nor did he enjoy the feeling either, as a deep scowl formed across his lips. 

 

Cocking an eyebrow, Jasmine stood, drawing her hand from his as she smiled contently. “Very well. I bid you goodnight, Jafar…” she replied with smugness in her voice. Striding away from the man who still sat in bitterness, she took one last glance at him before exiting the dull blue common room.

 

Despite knowing full well how he had twisted her from the inside out the other day, she never could’ve predicted a scene quite momentous as this. Jasmine, the only person in the entire universe, to bring that flustering type of heat from the cruel vizier known as Jafar. 

 

Yet...why did it though?

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

The next morning left Jasmine with a sore throat, her bandaged scars most likely beginning to heal. 

 

Sighing, Jasmine roughly turned over, seeing as the daylight of bright, translucent snow flurries again the uncurtained window of her chambers. Skimming over the rough linen that bound her neck, she could feel that strangely, to her surprise and horror, it was sickeningly warm and wet.

 

Her eyes snapped open immediately and she scrambled to an upright position, frantically grazing over the cotton band as she stumbled to the mirror. “Damn the gods…” she seethed as the entire linen was almost completely soaked. “Nurse!” She exclaimed, clutching the soggy linen over her neck, which had begun to bleed furiously. 

 

“Hell, Sultana,” a chillingly grotesque yet slick voice cut through the sound of her pounding heart.

 

No.

 

Not you.

 

Not right now.

 

“Leave me be, you bastard!” She lashed as she skimmed her countertop for a spare towel. She could feel his hollow and soulless eyes searching her, sitting lazily on a chair by her ember ridden fireplace. Mot looked slightly the same as he had appeared to her the first time as a physical being, only his hair was slicked black and his skin was deathly pale that twisted Jasmine’s stomach in all the wrong ways. Twirling the edge of his dark crimson and black cloak, his coal black pupils dilated to the point where she swore the whites of his eyes were completely gone.

 

“You see, this can all be avoided if you had just kept your end of the deal. I still do plan on enjoyable destroying your soul after I take what is mine, but I figured that trying one last time to persuade you could help ease my painful boredom…” he slickly asserted, and Jasmine was almost completely sure he had stood up to stalk her like a wolf and a bloodied lamb.

 

“I will never give you what you want…” she muttered, slumping against the desk as blood spilled down her neck and through every crevice of her nightgown. 

 

Not laughed devilishly at her defiance. “Oh, Sultana, you will eventually. If not, you’ll be forced to watch the man you love’s life be torn from him by someone else as well as Agrabah’s complete and utter destruction.”

 

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she felt so brokenly vulnerable, like the air had been sucked out of her lungs and as penance, were being shriveled and crushed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, and you can’t guilt me!” She managed to lie through her anger and desperation to prevent the blood’s waterfall. 

 

“I don’t have to, you already do…” he cooed, his breath dancing across the nape of her neck. His hands slide chillingly over the bare skin of her arms, prompting her the desire to scream in hatred and loathing.

 

“Just know that there isn’t a path where I don’t win…” he tapered, his voice demonically shifting as every consonant was enunciated.

 

Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut and she could feel her heart pounding furiously through her temples and neck, if perhaps it wasn’t just the searing pain of her wound stretching open that blinded her already. “Let...me...go!” She demanded in a howl, her arms tensing to push away the prideful devil.

 

“Sultana?” A soft voice called from behind Jasmine’s door. Her eyes shot open, and to her anger and shock, Mot had left. Startling yet, her wound wasn’t bloodied or aggravated at all. Like it was all a cruel allusion. 

 

“Just a minute…” Jasmine trailed, studying the towels she had thrashed across the counter which baffled her to have no slight speck of blood on them whatsoever. She’d thought that with her constant pressure to her wound; regardless of an illusion, would’ve caused oozing.

 

Yet, there was no blood, like it had been healed completely overnight by the likes of…

 

Jasmine’s eyes widened as the answer sunk it. Jafar. It had to have been him. But...how? He was powerful, but he couldn’t exactly enact spells on anyone without the grant of a wish. Did...he possibly…

 

No, he’s not a fool. He wouldn’t have had any reason to do so, as Nah’la could’ve simply-

 

Jasmine’s eyes widened even further now; her jaw despite how tensely clenched, dropped to the soil from the palace itself. He did something to his mother, he had to have…

 

“Sultana, are you okay?” The nurse called again, and Jasmine’s shattered sigh surely gave away too much. “I’m...I’m fine. I just thought something had happened to my incision, that’s all.”

 

“Well, I can take a look if you still think it’s necessary-”

 

“It’s not, I’m truly fine,” Jasmine dismisses her harshly. She could hear the nurse’s timid footsteps nearly disappear from her door, and the Sultana instinctively grazed at her neck. The scar was still evident, as would it always be, but it would take a fool to realize that Jafar’s rage was behind it all. Which in all honesty, wasn’t the most comforting thought…

 

After Jasmine had collected herself, she dressed for another day of sitting lazily around in the perpetually boring winter land of the North.

 

She strode down the dim hallways where snow fluttered and danced against the blue and white glass windows, providing a mural of darkness in itself against the walls that were almost as barren as the snow.

 

The Sultana knew; however, that she must confront Jafar. To see if her suspicions were true, and to tell him what had happened between her and the devilish god himself-

 

“Gods, the Sultana’s vizier is so handsome!” A squeal alerted Jasmine to the upcoming corridor on the right. As if instinctively, Jasmine hide behind to corner to avoid being seen by the enerouge of servant girls who were ogling about her husband.

 

Her husband.

 

“I know, exactly! If they weren’t married, perhaps I could’ve slipped into his chambers one night…” another voice perked, causing bile to rise in Jasmine’s throat. 

 

“Oh, rumors say that they aren’t truly married at all!”

 

What?

 

“Are you sure?” One asked, a sickening spark of hope in her voice. The leader, whose voice sounded so indescribably familiar to the nurse’s, ranted on. “Yes! I don’t even think the Sultana realizes how in love the vizier is with her!”

 

There is was again, that meaningless lie…

 

“It’s heartbreaking, seeing her never reciprocating his feelings. But maybe, before they leave in a couple of days, who’s to say we couldn’t come to him one night and cheer him up!” Another spoke, causing Jasmine’s blood to boil as well as her mouth to turn sour. Her palms grew sweaty and her cheeks flared in heat, but she refused to admit the emotion was anything other than anger at being disrespected. That was the only emotion. And she was right to feel that way about their lustful daydreams…

 

“I agree, we should go tonight!” A girl exclaimed, propelling her anger even further.

 

They wouldn’t even get the chance, she wouldn’t let them. 

 

Whirling around, Jasmine stopped the servants in their path, taking brittle joy in their utter shock and embarrassment.

 

“Excuse me, but I would like to clarify something to you girls. My husband and I, regardless of your petty patriotism and lustful thoughts, are happy to leave this country as soon as possible,” Jasmine reprimanded harshly, her eyes ablaze and theirs in shock. She continued, her voice not faltering quite yet in her rage.

 

“Together, that is. Because, whether you enjoy it or not, he is my husband. Mine, and…” Jasmine trailed, feeling her cheeks increasingly becoming warm, because despite their horrified expressions, her anger wasn’t what was inducing the soft pink that arose in flesh. 

 

“... _I_ love my husband very much. As if any of you would know a thing about love yourselves. You’re lucky I don’t tell the Czar what fools he has running his guest’s quarters…” Jasmine trailed, wondering how she was able to force out such untrue words that had such a strong, underlying emotion to every single one. 

 

Folding her hands together, she eyed each and every one of them. “Now, get out of my way.”

 

“Yes, Sultana…” the all murmured in choirs of groaning, embarrassment, fear, and jealousy. Scurrying around her, Jasmine continued to stride pridefully to the doors that led to the common room, where she could already hear the Czar, advisors, and Jafar all conversing.

 

Swallowing hard, she couldn’t help but play the words through her head over and over. They were untrue, she was certain of that...at least for the most part. 

 

But, what if they perhaps, weren’t entirely..impossible?

 

And what if…

 

Just simply what if…

 

...Did she dance upon within herself in those few three words that sparked something far greater than she had ever known? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowowowowow okay so thanks for 1k hits! i forgot to thank y’all last time, but thanks anyways!! i know i’m not the most popular writer and this not being the most popular fic, but it still makes me happy nonetheless!! anyways, so things are definitely heating up for jafar and jasmine, including jasmine’s feelings! but with that comes other threats heating up as well, which will lead to a very very VERY impactful ending i promise y’all! regardless, hope y’all enjoyed the chapter and thanks for reading!! :))


	13. A Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor arrives just in time before Jafar and Jasmine were to leave the Northlands. He brings joy and very possibly helps Jasmine answer one question she had as well...

Stepping up to the door, Jasmine hoped dearly to the gods that her cheeks had slightly returned to their normal, caramel hues.

 

As the footsteps of the servant girls faded from what she could distinguish in the echoing halls, she pressed her hand to the bitterly cold doorknob and twisted. Her breath had been lodged in her throat, an after effect from such grueling and churning thoughts about Jafar most certainly.

 

Perhaps she’d be able to push those unwelcome thoughts away after they left the Northlands, as then she wouldn’t have to deal with such nonsense again. But...there was obviously...the surreal chance that thoughts like this couldn’t be easily buried.

 

Especially as the simple words the nurse had told her nights before echoed in Jasmine’s head. Words about Scanland adoring a man that of like Jafar, a man that ladies would swoon for regardless of the culture.

 

Much like Aladdin himself, who had been always a sight for sore eyes to the people of Agrabah as a much handsomer young man was within their council. Same for Jafar even then, who had been adored by the budding lusts of young women more than that of his fellow cohorts.

 

And now look at the Sultana herself, dwelling over thoughts of childish folly about a woman’s desire toward Jafar, who truly wasn’t even her husband, and it shouldn't have mattered as much.

 

It shouldn’t have mattered that the servant girls were looking for a time to seduce him, or that the servants from Agrabah spent their time moaning and fawning about what the grand vizier could do to them.

 

Yet, now that those thoughts circled along with her former assertion to the servant girls, she wondered why it oh so truly did…

 

...As if by now she even had to wonder at all, for it wasn’t a matter of wondering. It was simply a matter of accepting, and she wasn’t certain she was ready for that revelation either. So denying meaninglessly wondering felt like the better option at the moment...

 

Pushing the old oak carved doors apart, she was surprised at the very least at what she had seen:

 

There Jafar and the Czar turned to her, with advisors and guards encircling someone in particular in an ironic, devilishly tense corona.

 

The person in the middle seemed to be crying, or at least in great distress. Jafar’s eyes softened when she arrived and his mouth twitched in tension.

 

His hands clutched the mahogany table in pensive thought, and his eyes quickly fell from hers almost the second she met his eyes. She couldn't remember the last time he had looked so...disturbed.

 

Or greatly...angered.

 

“Vizier, what’s going on?” Jasmine queried. The Czar, whose cheeks were typically a concoction of cream and vermillion hues, were the color of a ghostly silver as of now.

 

“We’ve got a prisoner, Sultana. A fugitive, who himself claims to be from none other than Agrabah…” The Czar trailed, his voice thick with disbelief and worry.

 

...What?

 

Jasmine turned to Jafar, who still wouldn’t dare meet her eye. He was possibly even more tense than the second she took her eyes away from him. Her mouth was held agape, her shock possibly even more towards the words prisoner than Agrabah fugitive. Was he like the ones that tried to ambush her in the gardens under the rash influence of Hasib? No, he couldn’t be, or someone, especially the likes of Jafar, would’ve gutted them instantly. So...why was one of her people a prisoner? Why was everyone, especially Jafar, so nerve-wracked and completely incomprehensible towards him?

 

“Why are there doubts that I can hear?” She asked, her heartbeat rising. When getting no direct response, Jasmine turned to her husband.  “Vizier?” She asked Jafar once again, who still denied her plea subconsciously.

 

Despite the earliest of mornings, so many things had happened this day already. And yet, this by far the oddest and most grueling, given her many riveting and clashing symphonies within her mind and soul of a specific coming.

 

A specific coming of a certain person.

 

“May I speak to my husband alone?” Asked Jasmine, swallowing hard. The Czar turned to Jafar, pensively nodding, raising a hand to dismiss the two out of the dark, firelit common room.

 

“Sultana, I’m afraid we don’t have time to talk much…” Jafar trailed in a harsh whisper as they exited the room. She could feel his gaze darken despite the shimmering white snow out of the windows setting the room aglow.

 

“I need to tell you something, Jafar. Something that could even be a trap set here, especially after what had happened earlier,” Jasmine murmured, eyeing the door in suspicion. And yet, the Sultana was startled at how...vulnerably contrasted Jafar seemed. His eyes showed no sign of true sign of attentiveness, as if her words passed through him like a specter. As if he were caught in a dream, or possibly a nightmare.

 

“Jafar? Did you even hear me?” Jasmine repeated, disappointment and hurt seeping through her voice.

 

Jafar’s jaw clenched, his eyes diverting from her to the deep blue patterned carpet of the hallway. She was in total disbelief, for after a time of momentous silence, he still continued to avoid an answer. It didn’t even seem like he was angered by her, or if he was, she still couldn’t grasp why. Nonetheless, there they stood, silent like graves and crypts but all with Jasmine’s rising disappointment.

 

“Have I angered you, to which you respond by simply not talking? I really need to talk about something that happened this morning, something that could be connected to who is in there, regardless of it being a different contigency this time…” Jasmine trailed, and Jafar’s eyes immediately shot to hers in a bitterness that startled her.

 

And yet, it did perhaps at the very least soften at her reaction, and he spoke as softly as he could without letting his own voice rise proportionally. Jasmine finally could tell that the certain prisoner in the room was someone Jafar knew, and hated, all too well...

 

“I assure you, whatever that did happen this morning…” he trailed, his jaw clenching in anger. “...it’s definitely not connected to who is in that room.”

 

Jasmine shook her head, deeply confused. “Then who is in that room? And why are you being so incredibly aberrant?”

 

Jafar swallowed, studying the dull patterns of the Northland carpet once again. “Perhaps...you should just bare witness yourself.”

 

“But Jafar, I need to tell you what happened-”

 

“We can talk later,” remarked Jafar harshly, causing her to scowl.

 

“Why not now?”

 

“You…” his voice raised in boiling anger, yet dissolved rapidly against her stare of complete discontent. “...Just need to see for yourself, Sultana. Before anything else happens.”

 

Before she could make another remark, Jafar had already pushed the left oak door open, meeting the Czar, the guards, and his advisors’ gazes.

 

“We’d like to speak with the prisoner alone,” Jafar ordered, receiving looks of tension and murmuring from the guards. The Czar shook his head as well. “Very well, but for precautions we must allow guards to remain in the room so no feral act will be committed, like last time.”

 

Jafar scowled, but finally agreed and allowed the Czar and his advisors to pass. Jasmine watched the guards in curiosity and sheer terror, her heart racing as if a tingling sensation sang to her that this was truly, no ordinary prisoner.

 

She could feel Jafar step beside her, his anger now on edge as he locked his glare of menace straight toward the guards in front of them.

 

The guards, in a synchronized manner, circled prisoner, allowing Jasmine to look at the man before her. He had a bag of sand-ridden linen over his face and neck. His clothes were a musty and tattered white, stripped of fabric with so many countless holes. Jasmine swore under her breath as it was clear by his soft groaning that he had been terribly beaten, either by Hasib’s forces or under the Czar’s command.

 

“Remove the bag…” Jasmine instructed, her voice nearly not higher than a whisper. The guards grunted in response, pulling the bag recklessly off of the prisoner’s head, prompting Jasmine to nearly scream when she saw him.

 

His curly black hair was stringed and matted, scars painted his cheeks like cruel brushstrokes of an un-dried canvas. His lips had been horrible cut and scraped, dryer than a cracked piece of parchment perhaps. Though when his cocoa brown eyes shot up to Jasmine’s, they filled with a sheer, child-like and ecstatic joy that nearly were brimming tears.

 

“Jasmine!” Exclaimed none other than her true husband himself...

 

...Aladdin.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“Jasmine! You’re okay!” He exclaimed, his joy radiating in total blindness that he was to attempt to jump to his feet and pull her into an embrace. He was prevented; however, as the guards had placed chunky steel chains that secured him to a wooden chair.

 

Jasmine could feel her own tears welling in her eyes, her mouth agape and her own hands shaking in monumental joy.

 

“You made...y-you made it out?” Replied Jasmine in shock.

 

“I did! With the help of a few rebels, I managed to escape during one of the uprisings,” he replied, his voice cracking under his struggle from the weight of his chains.

 

She shot the guards a menacingly ominous look. “Loosen his chains, immediately. I know this man, he is a friend!”

 

The guards did as the Sultana instructed, releasing Aladdin from the overbearing chains that held his bones to the ground. With a sigh and grunt of relief, Aladdin was able to run into the girl’s arms, pulling her into a spine-crushing embrace. Jasmine buried her face into his neck, ignoring the vile and piteous smell of blood and grime that coated the poor boy. Hot tears stroked their cheeks and gasps of pain, joy, sorrow, and relief filled the room.

 

“Forgive me, please…” Jasmine’s breath shuttered. “Forgive me for leaving you behind. I…”

 

Aladdin cut her off by cupping her face and smiling warmly. “You did what you had to do, Jasmine. And you’ve done so much, really. I’m proud of you…” he whispered, causing Jasmine’s smile to deepen and tears to cloud her eyesight once again.

 

“How is Agrabah?” She choked, and Aladdin’s smile lessened. “It’s under tyranny, but the majority aren’t conforming at least. Hasib’s forces have begun to weaken, all because of your quick-thinking…” he trailed, his smile returning which induced another round of tears for the Sultana.

 

“How’s Rajah?” Asked Jasmine, and Aladdin chuckled.

 

“You’re lucky Hasib is allergic to cats…”

 

Jasmine smiled. “He got away easily?”

 

“He did, and most likely he’s out to a great jungle by now I’m guessing.”

 

Jasmine raised her brow and smiled despite her shaky tone. “I guess I know my next quest to find after all this is done.”

 

Aladdin laughed and hugged her again, this time even tighter. “You’ll need to rest, we’ll find him. After all, you are the savior of Agrabah. Our true Sultana!”

 

Jasmine could feel the overwhelming memories of her and Aladdin’s past debacles, especially over the lack of support she received from him over the year. It warmed her heart, even to the iciest pits of doubt, to hear such kind and encouraging words from him.

 

“I’m so happy your here…” Jasmine gasped, tears spilling down her cheeks, nape, and clothing.

 

“I’m so happy you’re safe…” he murmured, his own tears spilling down her shoulder as they wept in the emotional embrace. Yet, despite the haze, she obviously noticed that look Aladdin then shot Jafar, and it was one full of complete anger, menace, and most of all hatred.

 

“Unless she isn’t safe, and this so-called ‘marriage’ between you two has hurt her in some way.”

 

Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut and drew away, partial guilt building. Turning to Jafar, she could see his fuming anger nearing the point of a boil. “You heard?” She asked Aladdin sheepishly.

 

“Everyone in Agrabah has heard. That the Sultana and her husband had escaped from the city. I’m not one to judge the decision, but I am one to judge the man…” he spat, his eyes widening as his arms dropped from Jasmine to stalk Jafar like prey.

 

Jafar didn’t like that, oh gods, did he not.

 

“Watch your words, boy,” Jafar threatened, towering over Jasmine and Aladdin in a terrifying gaunt. It was then that Jasmine had completely understood Jafar had witnessed the entirety of the situation, as even in his own eyes aside from burning hatred, there was the foreignity and the sorrow of it all. Sorrow for her perhaps, but very possibly sorrow out of jealousy…

 

“Maybe you should as well, _Aladdin_ ,” replied Aladdin with heavy sarcasm and hatred. “I have a reason to believe you’d hurt her!”

 

“I’d never.”

 

“Right, definitely believe that,” Aladdin laughed darkly. “So last year doesn’t exist? Is that why you’re here now? Somehow got out of the lamp and have Jasmine as your slave?-”

 

Jafar’s eyes began to darken into a deep, wicked shade of furious red. “I told you to watch your words, street rat! I swore to you I’d take my revenge last time we met, and don’t think I’ve wavered!”

 

As much as Jafar would’ve been pleased to do so, he kept his hands at bay to avoid choking the last atom of oxygen out of Aladdin’s throat. Though Aladdin, on the other hand, wouldn’t have wasted a second to do so.

 

Jasmine rolled her eyes and wiped away three stray tears. She hated the fighting, despite the understandable reasons. It was more annoying and tiring this go around, as in a situation like this Jasmine would’ve been flailing and demanding recompension. After three times of assertion followed by anger, she didn’t have time to see men fight so piteously shameful. Nor did she want to witness something as petty as such.

 

But, she had to at least put a stop to it, as men will do what men will do.

 

“Stop, you two are being foolish! You both don’t even bother to understand what happened and try to use me as leisure,” she reprimanded the two men bitterly. Both immediately locked eyes with her before they were nose-to-nose practically. Aladdin’s anger lessened, though it was still Jafar who looked as if he were going to pounce on him at any given second.

 

She eyed the guards, who despite their suspicion, caught one glance at the Sultana’s eyes and glided out the door. Turning back to Jafar and Aladdin, Jasmine scowled in annoyance and pulled up a stray chair, feeling as if she were going to reprimand children of all people.

 

“It’s probably a fine time that you understand the truth, without bickering…”

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“You’re sure? The old gods were supposed to be destroyed I thought…” Aladdin countered after hearing all Jasmine had to say. Jafar by the end had been staring out the snow glazed window, his temper solemn and unmoving ironically. “I am, I know it sounds preposterous, but you have to believe me.”

 

“It just sounds…too crazy. Have you considered that maybe Hasib is just insane? It’s not like we haven’t had any dictators solely try to rule Agrabah before…” he spat while narrowing his eyes to Jafar.

 

He took no notice; however, as he had distanced himself for a reason. Possibly to avoid strangling the living breath out of Aladdin for as long as he could. Or possibly...because he was feeling something else.

 

“I get it. I thought it was probably Jafar even at first myself,” Jasmine muttered, chewing on her lip. Jafar had shifted his head at the mention of his name out of the Sultana’s lips, yet it probably wasn’t a pleasing thought.

 

“But then I saw him, in the gardens here. And today…” Jasmine’s eyes narrowed to Jafar. “...I saw him this morning. He threatened me, again with the deal-”

 

“Which I suggest you still should’ve taken…” Aladdin murmured bitterly, yet Jasmine ignored his remark.

 

“-And when he threatened me, he tortured me in a way. Which is why this should be a reminder of who he is, and that he isn’t to be trusted.”

 

Both Aladdin and Jafar’s head snapped towards her, but only Jafar had a look of sheer terror. “He did what?” Aladdin exclaimed. Jasmine brushed over her throat instinctively as she talked.

 

“It was like my wound was cut open again. There was so much blood...and it felt all so surreal. But illusion or not...it didn’t last. And my scar is almost completely healed now…” Jasmine’s eyes shifted to Jafar, who was staring at her in a vast range of emotions from anger to...even a little relief.

 

She could see it in his eyes, as she had all the proof she needed. He had indeed broken the rules to save her.

 

“It just seems so...weird. If you’re saying that Nah’la was a witch that was trying to use you, and Mot was trying to use Hasib, why didn’t the Sultan just try to get the lamp himself?”

 

“He wanted me to get it, I-I guess just so he could take over Agrabah and Shirabad as well at the time…” Jasmine trailed.

 

“He wanted you to get it because you strongly hated me, perhaps…” Jafar remarked out of the silence. Jasmine and Aladdin turned to him, though his gaze remained solidly on Jasmine. “And you’d be willing. Yet now you aren’t, you still haven’t told me why either-”

 

“Maybe she just realized how risky and stupid of a plan it was, and that’s all.” Quipped Aladdin, clearly annoyed. Jafar’s eyes shot daggers at him. “How do you possibly know what she truly thinks, street rat? After all, isn’t your marriage failing because of that?”

 

Jasmine’s eyes widened. “Jafar!” She ordered, and he struggled to force himself down. Aladdin’s gaze snapped to Jasmine now in utter disbelief. “...You told him?”

 

Both were staring at her now, and Jasmine’s mouth was agape. “I…” she trailed, stuttering her words incomprehensibly. Jasmine couldn’t get over how betrayed Aladdin looked, and she’d understand where he was coming from, if only it wasn’t a look of suspicion that Dalia, the servants, and even Jafar had given her.

 

“We...can talk about this later,” Jasmine retorted, drawing away from the subject. Both Jafar and Aladdin gave her disappointed looks, yet she continued on. “To conclude this all, Aladdin. Now that you understand everything hopefully, could you possibly stay? We will be leaving in two days to go to Scanland.”

 

To Jafar’s annoyance and Aladdin’s joy, they both seemed deeply...affected by these few words.

 

“Of course,” Replied Aladdin, beaming.

 

“But…” Jasmine swallowed, her voice shifting to more of a whisper. “...For consistency’s sake with our current allies, can you go under the guise of Prince Ali? We can’t risk the distrust of the Northlands or Scanland, even if it’s for a few days.”

 

His smile dimmed as Jafar’s slowly rose smugly. “...I guess I can.” He faltered.

 

“Good. The Czar is planning a celebration for us before we leave, so I’m just he’d be happy for another foreign guest to attend. We’re heading out in a few days as well on Jafar’s recommendation.”

 

“You’re taking advice from him now?” Aladdin chose poorly for his next choice of words. Jasmine shot him a look of annoyance. “Aladdin…” Jasmine warningly reprimanded him, her annoyance rising. He held his down, not meeting either Jasmine or Jafar’s eyes.

 

“Fine…” he tempered. Feeling a strike of pity and sadness, Jasmine knelt before him and the chair he sat in. Cupping his face, she forced him to look into her eyes. “I’m really happy you are here, Aladdin. But I just need you to trust me, without doubt. Please…”

 

His eyes softened and he gently touched her left hand with his. “I do. You know I do…” he murmured, smiling now, Jasmine felt herself the same. A few tense moments passed, and Jasmine wondered slightly, ever so slightly what would’ve happened if things had worked out between her and Aladdin.

 

If they had been compatible.

 

And yet, that wonder also wedged itself between the current wonder of her and Jafar, and she forced herself to push it away despite the heaviness. But that thought would come again, sooner or later…

 

“We should introduce you to the Czar, Prince Ali…” Jafar interrupted in the silence, his voice dripping with spite, sarcasm, and something else.

 

“Uh...yes. Right,” Aladdin flustered, rising to his feet with Jasmine hand-in-hand. The Sultana couldn’t help but feel her skin prickle at Jafar’s petrifying and stone-like gaze on both of them.

 

Dusting himself off, Aladdin was then studied by Jasmine. “...You’ll be given assistance immediately for your wounds and clothing.”

 

Aladdin smiled serenely. “Thank you, Sultana.”

 

But despite the obvious joy, there was tension in his voice. And as if gravitational, Jafar’s hatred and anger filled the room like an ominous black cloud. Even as Jasmine headed to the door to alert the guards, she could have simply been trudging through water as his gaze on her held like an iron ball.

 

Something told her that this behavior of cat and mouse between Aladdin was nowhere finished.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Jasmine awaited outside of Aladdin’s chambers, twisting her fingers through the cascading hair that dripped down her shoulder. After Aladdin was introduced as Prince Ali of Ababwa to the Czar, he was immediately welcomed as a guest for the time being. The Sultana was to take him around the square of the Northlands, as she insisted to do it herself instead of the Czar, who was incredibly curious about Ababwa. Jafar; however, assumed a quiet role in the introduction, most likely because of his disdain for Aladdin. He remained in the common room with the Czar while Jasmine sat alone on a rickety chair in front of Aladdin’s chambers

 

Well, at least, she was alone until now…

 

“You’re still waiting?” Jafar asked her, incredulously annoyed as he approached from a corner.

 

“We’re going to the square after he gets tended to…” Jasmine murmured, watching disgust flash across Jafar’s flash. She furrowed her brow and wrap her arms. “...And I’d appreciate you to lose the petty look of disgust, thank you.”

 

“Am I not allowed to hate the fool who put me into a lamp a year ago?”

 

“No, not really. You deserved it then,” Jasmine snapped.

 

Shifting the weight between her thighs, a silence of brief tension fell over them. Jafar’s lip twitched into a scowl, and he dipped his head downwards in partially shameful recognition.

 

“...Perhaps. But I won’t admit my mistakes to him, Sultana. I don’t owe him anything,” Jafar countered, his gaze turning sour.

 

“Then if you don’t owe him anything, why are you here?” Jasmine spat annoyed, unaware of how harsh she sounded. Seeing tremendous hurt and bitterness flash across his eyes, Jasmine stood immediately and grabbed his arm, preventing him from turning away.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that…” she broke. “And you know that as well.” Jafar’s expression twisted from anger to solemn sorrow as Jasmine continued. “...Stay here with me, please. While I wait?”

 

“If you aren’t going to chastise me any longer, then I shall,” he remarked in a low, sarcastic tone. Despite the tone itself, she thought she caught even the slightest of smiles cut across his face. Jasmine smiled to herself as well, watching Jafar closely as he slowly stood beside the wall with her.

 

“...I should have let you tell me what happened this morning, Sultana. My rashness has been getting the best of me today. Forgive me,” Jafar murmured solemnly after moments of silence.

 

Jasmine turned to him, the space within their bodies reaching a minimal.

 

“You’re the only reason why I’m healed, Jafar. Regardless of the illusion, you protected me…” she whispered through a small smile, abating his stone-like features in an instant it seemed. Yet then her smile faded, and she studied him closely.

 

“But why?”

 

There was a pause.

 

“...You did something to your mother, didn’t you?” Asked Jasmine, both of their features twisting into dismay.

 

Jafar, who had taken an extensive amount of time to work up the right words to respond, was finding it so excruciatingly difficult. It confused her deeply, as she had never seen him to contemplative, she swore she hadn’t.

 

His hands were balled and his jaw clenched and unclenched, yet he still held no reply from his lips. Strangeness danced in his eyes, and she could see he wanted to tell her, whatever it was that he needed to.

 

But something prevented him, and once again, it was that same damn foreignity she so loathed to be confused by…or at least she thought she was.

 

The door opened, startling the two in the midst of something...unreal. Out came Aladdin, brimming in smiles and donning shades of white, grey, and blue. Jasmine, who drew away from Jafar, smiled as she approached him while the thoughts of the past conversation evaporating.

 

“Wow, _Prince Ali_ ,” Jasmine laughed, her brow raising. He smiled turned around with his flowing white fur cape, something Jafar curled his eyes towards. “Pretty neat, huh?” Aladdin replied, beaming. Jasmine nodded, smiling.

 

“Well…” Aladdin cocked an eyebrow and held out his arm. “...shall we go?”

 

Jasmine chuckled and accepted the offer, which unbeknownst to her, only annoyed Jafar more.

 

“I’ll lead the way,” said Jasmine, smiling in complete joy. Taking his arm, he took her down the hallway up a montra of smiles and laughter. And yet, despite all that, she could feel Jafar’s calculating glare watching them from afar, and she was beginning to catch on to why...

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“I think I’ve realized I hate the cold…” Aladdin grumbled, causing Jasmine to laugh.

 

Crunching the snow beneath their feet, Jasmine and Aladdin walked amongst the quiet square where shops and markets glowed with firelight in the chilly noon.

 

“I like it, for the most part…” Jasmine replied, watching the flakes rest and melt on strands of her raven black locks.

 

Aladdin shrugged and kicked a lump of melting snow. “It’s just too cold for me. I guess you were lucky to experience more than just heat in your life…”

 

Jasmine chuckled and folded her hands inside her warm fur pockets. “It’s gotten tedious to live here for a month and a half now. I’ve missed the heat of Agrabah for the most part as well,” responded Jasmine with a sad smile.

 

“This place has been nothing but hell for you, hasn’t it?” Aladdin asked in a murmur.

 

Jasmine’s eyes widened and she shook her head apologetically. “I didn’t mean it compared to what’s happening in-”

 

“That’s not what I meant, Jasmine. Don’t worry,” he briefly smiled. “I actually was referring to…”

 

Jasmine caught on almost immediately.

 

“Jafar…” she muttered. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah…” Aladdin paused, his breath hitching. He furrowed his brow and gave her the strangest look, stopping in his tracks while they were surrounded by passing villagers and heavy snow.

 

“You weren’t serious when you said he saved you, were you? I just can’t see that part…” Aladdin continued.

 

Jasmine swallowed hard, seeing him so darkly serious dissolved her joy mostly. “He did. Because...I’ve realized by now that he genuinely cares for me.”

 

“He’s always had a certain thing for you, Jasmine. But are you sure this isn’t one of his grand schemes? For all we know, he could also be working with Mot somehow…”

 

“How would he do that? Jafar, most of all. Mot wants to destroy him, remember? He’d never give in. He’s smarter than that.”

 

“I guess you’re right about the first part. But the second, it’s a little iffy. When it comes to you, he isn’t entirely that smart,” Aladdin murmured coldly.

 

Jasmine eyed him and furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re implying.”

 

Aladdin chuckled and shook his head. “Just forget it then…”

 

She shot him a cold look because of his sarcasm and petty behavior. But what ever did he mean?

 

“I’d still like you to elaborate on that,” Jasmine pestered. “I can hear what you have to say.”

 

Aladdin shrugged and pursed his lips. “I overheard you two talking while I fixed myself up. You mentioned that he healed you and Nah’la factored into that. Just think about it, he literally broke the rules of a genie to help you.”

 

Jasmine felt a twinge if worry and guilt, but she only shrugged. She had already thought of that worry, but she still decided to play coy. At least to hear what Aladdin had to say. “Well what even happens when they use their magic outside of a wish?”

 

“That I don’t know…” Aladdin trailed. “...But you realize how reckless that could be, right? He’s a reckless and careless man, aside from when it comes to you. So what are the odds Mot would offer him something, like a wish in himself, that in place for your safety Mot gets Jafar’s powers and Agrabah and-”

 

Jasmine snorted. “That’s preposterous, Aladdin. He’s smarter than the man he was. He wouldn’t fall for that trick…”

 

“How do you even know, Jasmine?”

 

“Because if being with him here has taught me anything, it’s that I’ve been able to in someway help him see clearly, not the other way around. Perhaps not straight away, but I’ve been able to…” Jasmine trailed, searching the snow. “When I was ambushed, he nearly reverted entirely back to the being he was. But he didn’t because of me, because I was there, Aladdin. I trust him more than anyone here for helping me.”

 

“And I trust you, which is why I ask you this: do you forgive him?” Asked Aladdin.

 

“For what?” Jasmine replied after a few moments.

 

“For last year. How can you fully trust him if you haven’t forgiven him?”

 

Jasmine felt at a loss for words, her anger beginning to boil however as they were found. “Who says I _haven’t_?” She whispered, shocking herself.

 

Jasmine knew why she had said the words, because despite her argument, they were completely true. It wasn’t that he deserved it, but she needed it herself. She needed to forgive him, but not for him to feel less guilty or vice versa, but for her to feel free.

 

It was just then did she truly realize how.

 

“Look, I fully understand why you are trying to convince me, with all the dastardly awful ideas not to trust him, but…I do. He’s not the same person he was, and I have faith in him because of proof that he’s shown me…” Jasmine trailed, yet Aladdin seemed anything but convinced.

 

“...So you’d let him kill me if he wanted?”

 

“Good gods, no! I’m not blinded by anything, so of course not!” Jasmine countered in disbelief. She couldn’t believe he’d assume such a thing, despite being reasonable earlier. Now he seemed to be in the same boat as Jafar, acting out of spite.

 

“...I think I’ve had enough manipulation for one day from you, Aladdin. You and Jafar are just driving me mad with this. I looked forward to just a simple walk...but it seems neither of you can move on from the past. But at least Jafar knew to shut up when I asked him to.”

 

“Jasmine-”

 

“Enough, Aladdin. I think it’d be best if I took a stroll on my own for a while. From both of you, until we can speak about anything else aside from this petty rivalry.”

 

Turning on her heels in the watery snow, Jasmine trudged away from him, feeling tears glisten in her eyes as she walked.

 

She had finally gotten him safe and away from Agrabah, or at least Aladdin came to her. But now, it was another conflict that was added to her damned pillars. He tried to put her on a pedestal and knock her down because of something he simply couldn’t grasp or want to at all.

 

And then there was Jafar, who despite following her orders about the preventable arguments, was still undoubtedly envious of Aladdin from the moment he set foot in the Northlands.

 

She knew what she told Aladdin was true, and that Jafar would listen to her clearly for the most part. But Aladdin would continue to flame the situation to spite Jafar, which would protrude a climax she couldn’t bear to witness, even aside from their debacle. And she needed to figure out how to stop it.

 

Because there was something he, the servants, and Dalia, knew for certain now, possibly as well as she.

 

The reckless use of his magic...

 

The jealousy...

 

The anger...

 

Even the damned foreignity in his eyes…

 

...Was all because Jafar was in love with Jasmine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> k so aladdin’s here now which brought for the jealous!jafar moments!!! okay i hope this chapter isn’t confusing or short, because i wrote this day’s apart and i haven’t had time to reread it. but short story short, jafar is jealous but aladdin isn’t. no he doesn’t love jasmine or anything in that way, but jafar doesn’t know that. aladdin just hates jafar and tries to get jasmine to hate him again as well (by trying out some ideas that might worry her because he actually believes jafar could do it), despite her obvious favoritism to him at the moment. but she doesn’t fall for their petty rivalry manipulating her and decides she needs to stop it because it’s hurting her more than it is them, especially in the midst of what’s going on. with that, she comes to FINALLY realize altogether that jafar is indeed jealous because of his love, which will definitely affect how she views things in upcoming chapters. so that’s what i was trying to get at btw. anyways, thanks for reading and i apologize for any broken english!! hope y’all enjoyed!! :))


	14. The Celebration Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the celebration for Jasmine’s departure arrives, the Sultana herself has unfinished business with family, friends, and even feelings that may affect how the entire night shall play out on its own...

So that was it.

 

Perhaps it always was.

 

Jafar was in love with her, and she finally been able to admit it for herself. 

 

Yet, why did it take her so long? It seemed to be that she always knew, or at least some part of her did. Was it because she was possibly afraid? Very likely. But what was she afraid of? That, she didn’t know.

 

It could have started when she was of the age of twenty, when Jafar had finally showed signs of distaste towards the numerous men that fought for her heart. Or even whenever her father casted her down, and despite Jafar’s own heartless words, had so much heart despite them. Yet it could’ve even been whenever he preferred to avoid all usages of his ghastly magic to force her to his will. 

 

All of those were indeed plausible, yet Jasmine concluded that something inside of her knew every time once again. 

 

From every stolen glance, longing stare, or heartless reprimand, Jafar despite all did love her. Which brought another problem to Jasmine: why?

 

Why did he love her? She thought them to be totally different; their separate lusts for power not enough to equate them. But...was that just it? Jafar wanted power because, despite everything that came with it all worldly or physical, he’d gain some sort of morbid satisfaction by trumping the people who spat on him all his life…which in a way was just like her.

 

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t lying when he admitted to being appalled by the thought of her seeking aid in a lamp. Because with the right push, Jasmine certainly understood now that she could have turned out like him. 

 

Jafar could probably never admit his love for her, something that sank into her realization and thought just then. He couldn’t even admit fully binding his own mother just for her safety, so what were the likes he’d ever admit his feelings for her?

 

‘Slim to never,’ Jasmine thought with a sigh. And here it was, affecting her entirely that for even split second she forgot about Jafar and Aladdin’s petty rivalry. Yet, she couldn’t force herself to feel sorrow and distaste for their debacles when she had trouble facing another selfish fact: how she actually felt. 

 

Which was...what? What truly did she feel? She knew she cared for Jafar, undoubtedly by now, but could it actually be something more? Maybe even to the point of...love?

 

“It wouldn’t matter, Jafar wouldn’t ever admit he loves me…” Jasmine murmured bitterly. Yet still, she couldn’t help but dwell on that thought or theory, something she still remained unsure about. Maybe, despite the evidence pointing towards his love always being unrequited, that didn’t mean whatever she felt had to be.

 

Because, regardless of her own emotional satisfaction, could possibly be used as leverage to help melt away Jafar’s icy jealousy and stop the rivalry before it could even start. 

 

Only possibly, however.

 

But what would she even tell him? That she possibly had some type of feelings for him? He’d hypocritically want an answer; a strong one in fact. 

 

So possibly, whatever she could be feeling, had to wait before it was revealed to Jafar, and Aladdin.

 

Aladdin nonetheless would despise what she felt blossoming inside of her. She could perhaps lose his friendship for good, terrifying her even more. Which was all the more reason to stay quiet, at least for now.

 

The Sultana Jasmine had trudged very long in the snow to the point where it was possibly mid afternoon. She didn’t step along the path that led to the garden, as the thought of the place terrified her now disappointingly. Instead, she traveled to the crypts and graves, visiting no one other than her own father. 

 

Approaching the cobblestone pathway that zigzagged to the ominous stone structure of her father, Jasmine sulked toward it, feeling her cheeks reddening with intensely furious heat. She knew exactly why she had come.

 

Not to spill her worries or beg for him to return, she was past that part. Now it was a fine time to acknowledge what kind of a coward and a tyrant in his own way he was...

 

Tears stained her cheeks and burned them raw amidst the cool, winter white winds. Crinkling the felt fabric of her coat in her palms, Jasmine marched up to the crypt. 

 

“You…” she seethed, her words stumbling. “...You were just as much of a monster to me as you were to him! I forgave you, for all your past mistakes and treacherous reprimands. But even you were too much of a coward to admit your mistakes, because all this...all of this that I’m plagued with, was by a seed planted and coddled by you as well.”

 

Jasmine could almost feel the taunting and laughing of his advisors prick at her skin from old memories surfacing in her reprimand. She gritted her teeth and let out a deep, guttural yell in anger. Jasmine felt entirely stupid for acting this rash, but she couldn’t stop herself, nor did she even want to come to think of it. 

 

“You took Jafar in, treated him for the lowlife he had been raised and always used his own traumas against him whenever he was wrong,” her voice stammered, cracking beneath the weight of her built up fury.

 

“You used my own hopes against me. Hell, even Aladdin, you let us drift apart while I struggled for advice and the comfort of a father. You were forgiven for some things, but I won’t let myself forget why ever again what kind of a person that lied beneath your skin…” Jasmine trailed, feeling her heart rate consume all over noises around the crypts.

 

“Because if truly, anyone is to blame for how Jafar came to be...my sheltered life...the constant warring...even this petty rivalry between two people I care dearly for...and why I’ve been a witness to so many unspeakable horrors...it was all seed from you.”

 

The grave remained there, staring at her back as if it had grown a pair of demonically smug, frost-coated eyes. She glared in disgust as more plump tears plummeted down her cheeks. “Maybe I won’t even...bring your body back to Agrabah,” She threatened, feeling her heart break at those very words.

 

Now not even Jasmine, in spite of her anger, could admit that those words were true.

 

Even as much as she slandered him in the moment, there was an inconsequential guilt that followed her rage. He was her father, the only piece she had left of her family. But he had made decisions so rashly, and in the end they finally caught up to him. 

 

“I’m not even sorry for growing close to Jafar, Baba. I just wish you would have learned from your mistakes while alive…” she trailed, her voice shattering like glass. 

 

The air of the afternoon had shifted from a breeze to stronger winds, signaling to Jasmine that another blizzard was to come soon. After a few moments of disappointed exchanges between the stone crypt and the Sultana, she turned on her heels and trudged through the thick, watery snow.

 

‘It felt like he was actually there,’ Jasmine thought to herself while she walked. ‘Like he had almost heard everything.’

 

And perhaps he had, as of now Jasmine wondered if she could do what her father could not. Learn from his mistakes, not hide behind a foolish veil, and most of all…

 

...be the companion he never was to Jafar, in one way or another.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

The next morning, upon arriving and remaining in her chambers for the rest of the night, had Jasmine feeling sickly after a night of restless sleep. It had been either too cold, too warm, too bright, or even too nosy.

 

But most of all, she remained restless because of the thoughts that plagued her about Jafar and Aladdin themselves. She contemplated deeply on how she were to face them that day, as neither of them had left exactly on good terms with her. Aladdin could very well be resentful, or possibly sorrowful. Jafar most likely would still be in his own envious state of mind, possibly imagining delightfully the demise he oh so wanted to hand Aladdin on a silver platter. 

 

Jasmine wondered if they’d ever be able to forgive each other, something that would mean the world and the stars to her. But Aladdin hates Jafar because he had taken over Agrabah, and Jafar hated Aladdin because he had taken her heart.

 

And that would at least take time, as both impacted them deeply.

 

Fixing her hair into a loosely knit braid after hopping out of bed, she threw on a coal black fur dress that paralleled her deep ash colored coat.

 

She didn’t expect to go anywhere special in particular that morning, perhaps to avoid the stale breakfast she had been fed routinely every morning since she had arrived was at least the best option. 

 

Fumbling with the tip of her sleeve, Jasmine began to head to the door when a knock against it startled her. Regaining poise, the Sultana tied her hands behind her back as she awaited.

 

“Enter,” she instructed, hoping to the gods it was anyone other than the chefs or servants. And yet, what she was met with instead truly shocked her.

 

“Prince Ali?” Asked Jasmine, eyeing the doorway to see if any guards were present. Aladdin stood there, still dressed in the same clothing he had worn the day before, somberly frowning with sheepish eyes.

 

“May I come in?” He mumbled, his chocolate eyes glued to the floorboard. Jasmine pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “Of course…” she half-whispered.

 

Stepping into her dimly lit room, Aladdin stumbled awkwardly as he prepared his words. “I um...I…” he trailed, digging in his pocket. “I just wanted to uh...apologize for yesterday. I let my anger get the better of me, and it was wrong to force it onto you, Jasmine…”

 

From his pocket Aladdin pulled out the same pedant of the viper, the gift he had original gotten her so many months ago. Her lips curled into a small smile and she met his gaze warmly.

 

“You were able to save it?” She muttered, staring at the viper. She hadn’t forgotten about the pedant, though it brought poisonous memories long ago, now it only warmed her and she felt more akin to keeping it this time.

 

“Uh, yeah. I save it before Hasib’s guards ransacked your room. I meant to give it back yesterday...but-”

 

“That was lovely of you to do Aladdin,” Jasmine thanked him. “And I accept your apology, but you must promise me not to let him get to you anymore if possible.”

 

Aladdin’s smile slightly dipped, but his eyes showed genuinity. “...I will promise that I’ll try.”

 

Jasmine couldn’t stay angry at him, and she only held respect for him as of now. The old Aladdin she once knew would have held a grudge for days and would never admit his mistake. She was deeply impressed by how much the man had truly grown. 

 

Jasmine nodded and a silence followed. She knew not to expect him to forgive Jafar right away, and that’s not what she asked of him. But Aladdin promising to try was all that she needed to hear. 

 

Unraveling the chain, Aladdin spoke to her, “May I?”

 

She beamed slightly and turned to her mirror. “That would be kind of you. Now I’ll have something far prettier than a rag to distract from my scars.”

 

Aladdin cocked a brow and scoffed. “Your scar isn’t something to be ashamed of. It’s a symbol to wear with pride, now. I guess you could think of it like that…”

 

Jasmine rolled her eyes and pulled her braid over her shoulder. “It’ll just make me feel better at least.”

 

Unhooking the lock, Aladdin twisted his arms to bring the necklace around her neck, the sparkling chain and the pedant adding color to the dull scale of blues and grays she donned that day. “It looks perfect on you,” said Aladdin with a cheeky smile.

 

Touching the pedant in a slight graze, her fingers traveled the metal and traced it in various motions. “Thank you,” she said in a murmur. 

 

“...Maybe today we could try again, you know? Take another stroll perhaps?” Aladdin asked in the silence that followed after. 

 

Jasmine pressed her lips together and sighed. “Today’s the day of the Czar’s celebration for us, and then we leave tomorrow…” 

 

Aladdin nodded and twisted his shirt. “Oh, right…”

 

He was definitely nervous, that much she could garner. With his entire Prince Ali charade, he’d have to fabric his character once again.

 

Which was why Jasmine had advised him to avoid small talk at all costs, either that or simply wish for Jafar’s assistance, which she already knew neither were up for the challenge of going exactly one day with throwing glances.

 

Though Aladdin had agreed to try, that didn’t prevent the tension, concluding that the best option truly was to lay low for now...

 

Turning over her shoulder to face him, she gave him a sweet, reassuring smile. “As long as you lay low, you should be perfectly fine, _Prince Ali_.”

 

Aladdin smiled with a hint of worry. “...I had actually thought about maybe you making a wish or something to help me out tonight, but I didn’t want to ask anything of you that I couldn’t do myself.”

 

Jasmine’s smile faded. ‘Oh, so he did think about making a wish,’ Jasmine thought. 

 

“Besides, it would’ve been real selfish as well…” Aladdin trailed, flushed. She nodded and cocked an eyebrow after a moment. “...I’m impressed at how well you’re actually trying, Aladdin.”

 

Aladdin shrugged and stuck his hands in his coat. “I guess I just sort of realized why you don’t use your last wish either. And I didn’t want to take that from you.”

 

Wait what?

 

Jasmine furrowed her brow and she watched him stumbled back to the door, her words stuttering. “What do you mean?”

 

Aladdin, who still hadn’t stopped once to turn on her confused note, just continued to amble. He had indeed grown smarter, like she had considered. No longer the boy in the streets she saw. And despite everything, his absence and foolery, he wasn’t as half-witted as her other advisors. Jasmine felt respect growing for him now.

 

“You’re holding out for something, and you don’t want to give it up. Or...someone” he remarked through a smile, yet she couldn’t figure it was genuine or spiteful.

 

Jasmine stood silently, deeply confused but also in wonder. The power those words contained not only troubled her, but blossomed a realization from the Sultana herself. Whatever he had just said rocked her silent, and her bones felt like steel that threatened to sink into the earth in a cowering fear, yet she couldn’t understand why she was afraid.

 

“You’re not implying that this is about Jafar, are you?” She questioned after a few minutes. 

 

Aladdin shrugged and turned towards her. “Your words, not mine,” he murmured. Jasmine furrowed her brow in disappointment. “It’s not. And remember what you had literally promise only moments ago?”

 

But Aladdin only smiled playfully. “I was just messing with you, Jasmine. I honestly don’t care how you spend your wishes, they aren’t mine.”

 

Jasmine rolled her eyes with a frown that dissolved slowly into a keen smile. “That’s it, I’ve had enough of _Prince Ali_ for right now. You nearly wracked my nerves and it’ isn’t even high noon!” Waving a hand to dismiss him, Aladdin laughed dryly. 

 

As he exited the door; however, an unabashed tension filled the room, and she swore he was indeed lying. He _did_ care how she spent her wishes, especially if they were about Jafar. But not even she had even thought about that prospect until now.

 

Why truly was she holding out the wish any longer than she should?

 

Was it because he’d reenter the lamp?

 

Or because she had any sliver of small hope that it could be of any sort of use to her in the end? That she couldn’t figure. 

 

Because it seemed only time would tell how she’d grow to use it, much like her feelings along with Jafar’s…

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

After Aladdin had left, Jasmine wasn’t far behind. Leaving her chambers, she strode to the common room with a new, urgent request on her hands. The little boy whom she had met when she first arrived, Sanath, she at least would like to give him a proper goodbye. 

 

Possibly one of her true regrets was not taking him along with her, but considering the danger and what was at stake, it was only safe to let him stay with that shameful family as opposed to risk his life beside her. It was a difficult choice to have made, but a _right_ one nonetheless.

 

A blizzard had indeed settled over the Northlands and had hammered the palace in snow so thick, the windows had been partially able to allow any stream of light to meet the inside. In that case, candelabras has been lit, allowing for Jasmine to walk the halls to the common room in an eerie, phantom-like gate, shadows dancing from every angle. 

 

Even in the dim glow, the walls remained a shade of boring blues and greys that not even the fire of the candles could luminate them with its extravagance. 

 

As she approached the doors, she was thankful to have heard the Czar’s cheery accent blast loudly to his advisors in what seemed to be one of their daily meetings. What she would be asking may be a challenge, but it was her only request to him that she’d make. 

 

“That would be excellent, your highness. We will prepare another siege in a few days,” an advisor perked as they came to the doors opposite from her. 

 

“Ah, Sultana,” the Czar greeted with a cheeky smile as the doors opened. “Your husband and I were going to meet for tea, despite the earlieness, to talk about the caravan and upcoming siege. I suppose you’re coming in his place, then?”

 

“Actually...I’m not. I have another request before we leave,” Jasmine responded. 

 

The Czar raised his bushy brow. “Oh? Well, I seem to have enough time to waste before tea, so come in.”

 

Jasmine nodded with a small smile and stepped inside. “I didn’t know you were meeting with my husband again?” She asked him, fumbling with the dull colored oak wood chair. 

 

The Czar laughed. “He hardly wants to make a decision unless he confirms it with you, if it reassures you.”

 

Jasmine felt spite rise in her voice. “Despite our paths separating, from now on I’d like to receive news and inquiries myself, directed or audible.” The man had laughed half-heartedly again at the woman’s plight, and she felt his joy buckle under her quip. Come to think of it, Jasmine never truly liked him, even now.

 

Sliding into the chair, Jasmine folded her hands and watched him blankly. Plopping into a chair across from the table in front of her, the Czar smiled cheekily. “So, what would you like to discuss, Sultana?”

 

Clearing her throat, she slumped over the table and propped her arms against the cool wood. “I’d like you to seek out a family within this capital of yours.” Jasmine continued in descriptive detail, “a woman with red hair and a lanky man by her side. They have a son named Sanath I’d like to speak with before our travels to Scanland.”

 

The Czar stared at her incredulously, and for a moment she swore he gave her the equivalent of slap by staring at her demeaningly. “...That’s quite the difficult task, Sultana.”

 

Jasmine cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sure you can find them easily…” she trailed with heavy sarcasm, and the Czar understood what she had implied. Northlanders didn’t share resemblance to Agrabans, which sparked her deeply in ranges from spite to anger as it seemed to be the cause of their demeaning glares. 

 

Chuckling nervously, the Czar nodded his head. His gaze had lowered from hers, as Jasmine’s spite shifted from smug delight. “We will see what we can do.”

 

Jasmine smiled dryly. “Good, I look forward to seeing him.”

 

A tense and bitter silence fell between the Czar and the Sultana, yet this time Jasmine delighted in the fact that she was the one who instead of terror, felt liberation.

 

Oddly enough, she’s miss this feeling. Taking back what had been for granted by so many meaningless rulers, old or young, Northlander or Agraban. She’d truly miss it, the gift of terror in small boxes hidden with all sorts of colored, laced, or ruffled bows. She truly would…

 

“So…” the Czar trailed in a meekly charred voice. “...Tell me about Prince Ali from Ababwa.”

 

Jasmine furrowed her brow, yet she didn’t retract. She knew exactly what game he was settling into now…

 

“What would you like to know?” Jasmine shot back, a kind smile painted her lips in a cruel, daunting shade. The Czar shrugged and smiled, his hands folding as well, and Jasmine recognized that folly straight away.

 

“Well...firstly I don’t think I’ve heard of Ababwa before,” the Czar pondered, and Jasmine gritted her teeth.

 

Here we go again…

 

“It’s a new country, which certainly wouldn’t be added to any of your maps you have in the Northlands,” Jasmine concludes to him, her voice unwavering.

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Certainly, seeing that your country prefers to stay amply out of concerns other than your own, it shouldn’t baffle you that much. Should it?” Jasmine asked, resisting the urge to smile devilishly at his sinking esteem. Once again, as he began to unravel the rug to pull beneath her feet, she had tripped him instead. 

 

“Our cartographers can get that fixed right away. Where is bordering?”

 

“South of Agrabah on an island that borders our coastline,” Jasmine offered, surprised by the own authenticity in her own lie. 

 

“I’ll have that recorded as soon as possible, Sultana. Could you possibly tell me how the both of you became allies?” The Czar asked, his regained confidence seeping heavily through every accepted vowel.

 

“He had come to Agrabah a year ago…” Jasmine trailed, articulating the story in her mind by concocting the truth with the lie of the year’s previous tale. “...he was a suitor of mine. One my father was highly in favor of.”

 

The Czar’s eyes raised. “Oh?”

 

“But I didn’t marry Prince Ali of Ababwa, I married my Grand Vizier instead…Aladdin,” Jasmine muttered, her heart pounding at those words. Truth be told, she was almost Jafar’s wife. And while she would have shuddered in disgust at those words a year or so ago, now they only formed a pit of thrill within her stomach.

 

“What a love story! Not only did you break the tradition of an only male ruler, but you chose a peasant as your husband! Historically astounding!” He exclaimed, his smile boiling her blood.

 

How dare this man…

 

“I’m quite offended it wasn’t acceptable beforehand, your grace. I’ve always thought us to be no different, other than the sizing of an accommodation whether palace or house,” she tempered, her eyes shooting to his.

 

“Well, there is actually a difference. We have books, they have musty clothing. They have lake water, we have fine wine. We have grandeur, they have bread baked from rotting wheat. They have flies to swat away, we have trained swordsman...” the Czar trailed, truly infuriating the Sultana.

 

“Well, with all due respect, your grace, I’m thankful your trained swordsman have fought...and died...for my people, including those in musty clothing.”

 

The Czar’s smile immediately dropped, and she wasn’t entirely sure whether he had been enraged or panicking.

Or maybe even a mix of both.

And yet, before he could stutter another slap, the door swung open, and Jasmine felt herself excessively half-smile.

 

Jafar.

 

“I’m sorry to intrude, Czar. But I’d like to be on time with this meeting…” Jafar reprimanded him, until he laid eyes on Jasmine. His lips curled into a suspicious smile as he eyed the two. “...yet, I see it’s already begun without me.”

 

“Oh, goodness no! We’ve just been chatting,” the Czar giggled and smiled, hiding his unsettlement from before. “But the Sultana has requested that we include her in meetings dealing with her country from now on.”

 

Jafar’s eyes narrowed to Jasmine, yet he stared blankly and nodded. “To be expected.”

 

Jasmine nodded and met his gaze directly. “We may conclude this meeting in the dining hall, if you would see fit,” she replied, watching him truly. He seemed unsettled, by something she couldn’t understand.

 

The way his eyes shifted and his hand clutches the accent of his black cloak...all very peculiar.

 

Especially the way his lips twitched in dissatisfaction told her he had seen something he most certainly wasn’t pleased by, and it was definitely because of the Sultana herself...

 

The Czar smiled and rose up from his chair as well as Jasmine. “Very well, I’m tempted by a cup of tea as well.”

 

Jasmine stood as well, her eyes not drifting from Jafar whatsoever. Swallowing hard as she begun to exit, she finally begun to realize why Jafar had been so precariously cold. It had just hit her, and she wasn’t sure why it hadn’t sooner.

 

He had been eyeing her pedant that Aladdin had given as a gift.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

The meeting wasn’t quite as long as Jasmine would have preferred. The Czar still seemed greatly disturbed after their previous conversation to waste any sort of small talk that could lead to her severing an alliance. She took joy in the power he had not, and the more he wallowed the greater she felt.

 

How could Jafar even stand this man?

 

Well, they were very similar in many ways, but perhaps Jafar had at least learned from his mistakes. Which was the most probable reason for why these certain feelings she harbored shot through her veins like adrenaline...

 

There she and Jafar sat, and Jasmine has hardly even spared the cup a graze. The Czar had left them in an apparent urgent matter that had to be with solution soon, but even a fool could figure he was just a man running scared. 

 

Yet now, Jasmine sat, pondering how she was to approach Jafar in his distant state, as he seemed possibly more agitated by the fact that her and Aladdin exchanged gifts in his mind than he ever had been when Aladdin arrived. Would he even bother to believe her when she’d tell him there was not even the slightest form of regret? That she and Aladdin had fallen apart? Only time could tell from now…

 

“I heard you abandoned the street rat in the streets yesterday, quite ironic I might add,” he retorted, smiling dryly. Jasmine rolled her eyes and fumbled with the handle of her porcelain tea cup. “It was because of this petty feud between the both of you. Both misunderstandings.”

 

Jafar laughed devilishly. “The only thing I can understand clearly is how in love that _fool_ still is with you,” he remarked harshly, staring at the cream-colored table cloth. 

 

Jasmine cocked an eyebrow. “Even if he was, why does it bother you so much?”

 

Jafar chuckled dryly and shook his head. “It doesn’t.”

 

“You’re not as graceful with your silver-tongue as you used to be, Jafar,” said Jasmine cooley. “In fact, why did it bother you so much a year ago that you stopped my only trips to the square, just conveniently after seeing Aladdin?”

 

Jafar’s smile dipped ever so slightly, but he remained too proud and slickly spiteful. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Sultana. But I applaud the effort in trying to decode me like you did the Czar earlier.”

 

Jasmine’s smile was the faltering one now. She stared at him in disbelief and pursed her lips. “How long were you listening?” 

 

Jafar’s smile reappeared in the slightest form.

 

“Long enough to say even _I_ was impressed with how you handled his little game. You’re becoming a finer ruler every day,” he replied, both his eyes and voice softening as he stared at her with that loving foreignity he tried so desperately to hide. 

 

“You’ve become something even greater than I have, Jafar. A better man…” Jasmine told him earnestly. For the slightest moment, he seemed shocked or even taken by the words she had said. But it had all melted away into the smile he had painted across his lips now. 

 

“Cliche flattery? Thought you to be more eloquent than that,” Jafar reprimanded her, but Jasmine shook her head and smiled.

 

“You may never be able to say the words yourself, but you’ve changed and you regret what you have done. Which is why I might consider keeping you for a long while…” she trailed playfully, but Jafar’s smile turned sour and solemn.

 

“...Are you keeping the street rat as well?”

 

Jasmine’s smile now faded, unimpressed by his jealousy getting the better of him once again. She thought she had been truthful when telling Aladdin at least Jafar could admit his foul emotions, yet now she wasn’t that certain…

 

“His _name_ is Aladdin. And no, I’m not keeping him. He’s preferred to travel the world than stay in Agrabah…” Jasmine muttered, her voice drifting from annoyance to sorrow. Jafar took great notice as well, and his bitterness only deepened. 

 

“He’ll guide you from Agrabah soon enough…” Jafar spat, rising from the table. Jasmine gritted her teeth in anger and annoyance. 

 

“Your grudge is getting out of hand, and it hasn’t even been a week yet! Why are you being like this? I want an answer!” Jasmine exclaimed, standing up in rage and bumping the table slightly in the process. 

 

“You’ll become like him if you aren’t careful!” Jafar advised, avoiding her question. “In the end, you might end up abandoning your country the way he has done to you!” Jafar growled, meeting her eye with rage and what seemed to be underlying hurt.

 

“Abandoning Agrabah or abandoning you?” Jasmine demanded, and his eyes widened. Yet, she didn’t pause, and only continued in anger. “You’re jealous, why can’t you admit that much? And even if you can’t, at least try to understand and admit that you can’t keep me, or anything frankly, all to yourself!”

 

“I am not jealous, nor am I keeping you all to myself! That is madness! Not everything around you is about foul or pathetic feelings, why can’t you just admit that?” Jafar asked her, on the brink of yelling himself. 

 

“But it is, isn’t it? You simply can’t admit that because you’re afraid!” Jasmine seethed now, tears brimming. Jafar’s anger melted away into a menacing gaunt, and he stalked up to her closely. Jasmine stood unafraid to his veiled facade, brutal calmness encircling her as well. 

 

“I...am _not_ afraid,” he growled, his eyes wide but his gaunt failing to disturb her even in the slightest. He had closed in the small amount of space between their faces in a matter of intimidation, yet it wasn’t to terrify her as much as he was eager to address his failingly convincible plea.

 

“Then _prove_ it. Tell me why you’re angered, the truth, and I’ll believe you,” she whispered leaning closer, and now she was the one who intimidated him greatly. 

 

His lips parted and his eyes, now brimming, searching her worriedly and yet profoundly. She watched him for moments on end, yet he wouldn’t move from her. There were unspoken words being said, and she swore they were audible within every tear that threatened to form in his eyes. Jasmine could’ve waited an answer for hours, days, as long as she practically could. But they didn’t have that time, and their wasted minutes of traveling nowhere needed to cease.

 

“Then I have my answer…” Jasmine trailed frowning. Despite her annoyance, she felt another realization dawn on her. Of her own hypocrisy, that is, which was her own jealousy toward the servant girls yet not able to admit she too, or some part of her, desired Jafar all to herself. Or even when she couldn’t even admit to him she cared, that which he so desperately wanted to hear from her as well.

 

But she had been too late in her realization, as Jafar had now backed away and started striding to the door like a snake slithering back to its hole. “Jafar…” Jasmine began softly, yet as the words slipped from her mouth she was met with a door’s slam in response.

 

Feeling guilt wash over her like a cold rush of water, Jasmine realized what in fact she had to do. Whether or not it would in fact help her case to get him to admit his own jealousy and forward to the end of Jafar and Aladdin’s ongoing feud, at least she could be precise and truthful about her own.

 

Jasmine would indeed admit her own feelings, in some shape, color, or form to Jafar, that night at the celebration.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

There was a woman staring back at her.

 

A woman with silver thread woven into her raven black hair, tucked into an intricately braided twist that presented the back of her head like tapestry woven with sparkling moonbeams. The braids themselves were composed of their own signature strands of style, curving and snaking through every unbraided strand like a winding river. The portrait of her eloquent face was framed by the curling wisps of dark hair that could not be tucked back, providing a sense of youth and wonder to her serene yet queenly, cold-stricken features.

 

Then there was the woman’s gown; a marvelous wonder to behold out of all the things in the Northlands. Sewed in a winding cascade down her shoulder were jewels, ranging from regal sapphires to midnight onyxes. The fabric itself was softer than cotton or silk, as it was layered in petals from a deep, flint black to a fading snow white at the accent of her skirt, which was embroidered with exquisite designs from gold and silver. Glistening jewels and threaded designs coated her bodice like freshly fallen snow, as if the lucky being to wear the dress were of the utmost and ethereal stature. Cascading down her back was a magnificent laced cape, stitched to an artist’s grandest perfection. Weaving like a spider’s web were the threads of moonbeams and sunrays, seemingly producing their own glowing light in the veins that they were.

 

Stepping through the candle-lit halls in slippers that were sown with colorful gems to accommodate her gown, the Sultana Jasmine could feel her breath tensing while she strode.

 

Her body felt foreign in the dress, foreign to all eyes who were about to lay upon her as she was to enter the door to the grand celebration the Czar had planned.

 

She was lead by two guards while servants followed behind, tending to the flowing skirt that fluttered like wings while she walked. The iciness of the hall pricked at her skin while she walked, but that wasn’t the only part of her that received a shiver towards.

 

She knew _he_ would be there, the man she had come so close to breaking the thin wall of distrust between only hours earlier as the moon set high above the snow-crying clouds. He’d be handsome, and he’d be watching her. Most of all, he’d be _adoring_ her, which twisted the lonely coils of her core that had missed and yearned for it, while also terrifying her.

 

How did this truly make her feel, she wondered. To harbor such a craving as of this?

 

Truly, she couldn’t fathom it, as it had no answer. What only lied ahead was what time could make of her, something she dreaded but yearned for.

 

Halting at the entrance door, Jasmine could hear the crowds of people laughing and talking, the clinging of plates and shuffling of feet forming a sentence amongst them all that said the time was near. “Wait here,” a guard gruffly instructed her as they placed their hands on the silver door handles.

 

The servants behind her fluffed the skirt vigorously, providing the angelic gown with a sense of freedom. Resisting the urge to twist the floating strands of hair that tickled her ears, Jasmine rubbed the sapphire rings that adorned her fingers.

 

She could hear clapping as nearing footsteps approached the center of the stair-top, signaling to Jasmine that her heart must throb beneath the confinements of her ribs with building pressure. 

 

The time was now...

 

“Now, I am so cordial to introduce to the country of Zemlya Severa, the Sultana Jasmine of Agrabah, first of her name. A guest of our beloved country to the highest of our honor before her departure tomorrow, as well as her husband, Grand Vizier Aladdin, and ally from the country of Ababwa by the name of his honor, Prince Ali,” announced the Czar’s booming accent amongst his people. Clapping arose once again as both the guards signaled each other to pull the grand oak doors apart, which now ironically silenced the crowd in awe.

 

Jasmine stepped out, as if in a dream from some heaven-sent ballad, her steps echoing like a cordial song that would have made even the stars deeply envious. She eyed the crowd, her own breath shattered beneath the crushing silence falling like snow over the crowd as well as her. Echoes of her powerful strides affected even the furtherest of guests in the crowd, and they’re mouths hung agape for as far as her eyes could see. The Czar smiled serenely and held a stern hand to escort the dazzling Sultana to the center. And as he did, she could see  _him_ at the bottom, waiting for her as a circle of guests backed away.

 

Jafar.

 

He was dressed in shades of black and silver armory, his turban accented with a stunning diamond that protruded a hawk’s deep black feather from the center. Most gut-wrenching to Jasmine of all was the swarming concoction of pure awe, adoration, and regalness that appeared evident all at once across his eyes and lips.

 

He was entranced by her, it seemed. Utterly and completely entranced.

 

When her eyes met his as she waltzed down the stairs, she swore the crowd’s applause drowned in the midst of her own heart’s pound. She studied his face like a map, the yearning most certainly drowning all her past efforts as of now. 

 

Extending a hand towards her, she slowly clasped her own with his. A spark between their touch nearly threw her off balance, but Jasmine could only feel her breath being so painfully sucked out of her very lungs. He smiled down at her, a serene and placidly simple smile. The one he would always give her after a moment of peace. The one he used to give her, especially during moments of understanding similar to Aladdin’s embarrassment when they first met in the throne room. And finally, it was the same he had given her when they first met. The boy with the bread she had allowed free, and he so thankfully smiled in reply. He was here now, standing right before her. As her husband and her old enemy all the same.

 

It was _him_.

 

He escorted her down to the back of the room where the grand table awaited them, and despite all the eyes of murmuring and awe-stricken Northlanders, the only eyes she could even feel were Jafar’s. She returned his stare, her lip quivering as she spoke with every god-given fear boiling from the cracks of her skin and voice. 

 

“I need to talk honestly with you, Jafar. Especially about my feelings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew the LONGEST chapter!!! so this is one of my favorites to write, and i hope y’all like it too! so now we shall find out if jasmine tells jafar about her feelings, despite not knowing entirely on her own what they may be (or so she thinks)! anyways, i apologize for broken english or pacing! thanks for reading!!! :)


	15. The Celebration Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine struggles to deal with her feelings while something far more sinister lurks ahead.

Was she really telling him?

 

Was she really doing this?

 

She felt her stomach twist as the words left her mouth, and Jafar’s eyes shot to her immediately amidst the applause. He was shocked, that much she could gather, as his hand tightened around hers almost instinctively. Jasmine felt herself press her lips into a thin line while he throat ran dry. 

 

“Your...feelings?” Asked Jafar incredulously as they made their way back to the table. His voice was shaking now and Jasmine swore he seemed almost as terrified as the time in the garden.

 

Catching her breath in her throat painfully, her eyes drifted to the chair she was to sit in. Jafar’s eyes never left hers and he studied her carefully like a scholar, afraid almost that what he had heard was all an illusion of some sort.

 

But she needed to be his proof, right then and there.

 

She needed to show him she wasn’t fabricating anything, possibly more so to herself. It would help bring clarity to numerous things; it needed to happen now or never…

 

“Yes,” she responded and swallowed, her gazing falling from his for a split second yet she forced herself to look him in the eye. “I need to be honest with you.”

 

Jafar’s hand fell away from hers in utter confusion and worry. He must’ve been assuming that she was about to sever ties with him completely; that this was close to the end. Yet, it was more the opposite, if Jasmine could ever spill the words…

 

“You’ve changed. You’re no longer the power-hungry man I once knew, or not as much at least. You’ve done incredible things for Agrabah and for myself…” she trailed, watching him tense slightly at her words. 

 

Jasmine knew very well the knowledge she was overlaying had already been spoken between them, but this was more for her. Stalling ever so slightly to avoid the indecisive feelings she held for him...but was that all?

 

“...I’ve grown to realize that perhaps, in the most unlikely of circumstances, I…” Jasmine paused, feeling her hands growing sweaty and her head swirling. Jafar awaited her attentively, and she could have sworn his breath had grown even more shallow, most likely from anticipation. Yet at the same time, in only a matter of seconds, he had become so increasingly vulnerable from her words. 

 

“I…” Jasmine trailed again, feeling her cheeks growing increasingly hot and her breath faltering once again. This wasn’t as difficult as it had been with Aladdin, for with him she felt strength and power in her words. Now, worry was all Jasmine could manage to feel. Perhaps it was because of her faltering surety?

 

Or, this was something to inexplicably deep, it could possibly be put directly into the right words nonetheless…

 

“I…” Jasmine faltered, and she could see Jafar losing hope by ever syllable she tried to force. She had slandered unrighteous men, women, and even gods for crying out loud! Yet she couldn’t seemingly do this?

 

“Sultana!” A voice all too familiar called to her. Whirling her head around, Jasmine laid her eyes upon the bright-eyed young boy she had met months ago by now. Standing near the entrance with guards as his escort, all heads turned to the boy in scraps. He looked healthier, and far more joyful since she had last seen him, countering to Jasmine that he had been well taken care of from those lowlifes he had as parents.

 

“Sanath!” The Sultana beamed warmly. She stood, pushing the feelings of discomfort and stress away that had kept her ensnared only moments before. 

 

The boy came running, and almost stumbling, across the marble flooring towards her. Catching him in her arms luckily, Jasmine couldn’t spare a glance to catch Jafar standing and strolling away, disappointed most likely. In fact, Jasmine wasn’t aware at all.

 

“I’ve missed you!” Exclaimed the boy, his eyes alive and wild with childlike joy of course.

 

“I’ve missed you!” Jasmine replied as both of the friends conversed away, watching as around her either guests began to murmur or go about their other business while awaiting for the entertainment to flood in. Dancers of the culture were to provide a showcase, especially for the likes of Jasmine and Aladdin, and afterwards they were to be escorted to the floor itself to dance as well.

 

The Sultana wasn’t highly obliged, but as she had recognized Jafar’s absence, something told her she’d be dealing with other sorts of matters again that night other than just dancing.

 

And she was better to take this second chance, truly she was. She would. 

 

After her reunion with Sanath, Jasmine had been greeted by none of than Aladdin himself. 

 

He had been fondly smiling at the two as they reunited, yet it was sadly short-lived as Sanath’s family requested him back too soon, to her dismay. The boy had been well accustomed to the country of the Northlands, but she pitied the fact that he was shivering in the cold wintry night. Perhaps, when all was over, she’d allow him back. But only him.

 

“Is that a friend of yours?” Aladdin quipped while slumping down in a chair beside her. “A dear one. That’s the boy I had met before coming here…” Jasmine reminded him.

 

Aladdin nodded. “Oh yeah, I remember now. He seems to like you a lot, but not only because your the Sultana.”

 

Jasmine pursed her lip. “Perhaps. He’s a cunning and mischievous one, which is worrying…”

 

Aladdin’s smile began to falter slightly. “It’s worrying?”

 

Realizing where she had slipped in between the cracks of Aladdin’s closely guard worries himself, she quickly corrected herself. “It’s not entirely that, it’s his influence on how it is dealt with. If he isn’t careful or taught, he could simply end up how…”

 

“...how Jafar did?”

 

Jasmine swallowed and eyed the fabric of the tablecloth. “He’s in need of a new family. Or new influences. But I’m not even sure if now is the correct timing.”

 

She crushed her lips together in a thin line, tears brimming at the unravel of a brutal memory.

 

“Taking him away from his own mother at such a young age, as was I, it can shape you or break you with such a loss. I feel like perhaps waiting a while could help…”

 

“You’d be a great mentor yourself,” Aladdin complimented her with the slyest of grins. Jasmine gave him a small smile, and something possibly more bitter former on her tongue. A haunting thought, to say the very least. A plaguing sorrow…

 

“I wish we managed…” Jasmine trailed in the softest of voices, her eyes completely clouded by hot tears. 

 

Children, lots and lots of them, was her and Aladdin’s plan after marriage.

 

Yet, perhaps they weren’t lucky enough. Perhaps this was Jasmine’s curse, to never carry a babe in her womb like she dearly desired. It was all assumptions; however, that she was possibly infertile, something that terrified her father as the possibility of their bloodline rotting away.

 

And yet, after a visit from an Imam and a forbidden witch’s prophecy, Jasmine was promised to one day carry twins in her life from a tragedy that would shape them forever. Yet even now, the Sultana herself had begun to wonder if that was even factual.

 

“I know. And you will,” Aladdin soothed her, his eyes kindly sorrowful. Jasmine brushed a stray tear away, her heart pounding and cheeks growing achingly hot. “I hope so…” she whispered.

 

Just then, as if completely on queue, the Czar tapped his wine glass as he stood from the table he sat. As dinner had been already served just then, Jasmine wandered aimlessly where Jafar had ventured. Yet despite her urge after suppressing her former emotions to seek him out, she was forced to sit as the lights dimmed and the Czar spoke in exuberant jolly.

 

“Let the dancing begin!” He exclaimed as young maids dressed in matching blue attire flooded from the doors to entertain. Aladdin had now plopped down next to the Sultana, in the chair that Jafar was to sit in nonetheless.

 

Jasmine eyes frantically searched the crowds of people, all of whom had their faces shielded by the dimming lanterns and candles that lit the room. He had disappeared, once again, and she knew that most likely by now, his faith in her answer wouldn’t weigh up to the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

 

That neither of them could.

 

But she was indeed going to prove him wrong.

 

Prove herself wrong.

 

She would tell him that night, one way or the other... 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

It was in the midst of the dancing that Jasmine had noticed Aladdin’s gaze skimming her.

 

“Enjoying the dancing, I see…” Aladdin murmured jokingly. She shot him a cold look but he merely laughed. 

 

“I know you’re looking for him,” Aladdin muttered in the midst of the cultural music. Jasmine interlaced her fingers and leaned over the table. Aladdin’s gaze never left hers; however, and she could feel a peculiar question about to form from his lips.

 

“Why’d he get up and leave?” Aladdin whispered, and Jasmine shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe what I had to say in the slightest.”

 

Aladdin stared at her, his eyes darkening and his smile fading. Perhaps he had just expected something far more light. Or possibly, something else entirely. That Jafar had been excused under Jasmine’s orders, or that he was being a disruption.

 

She knew that’s what Aladdin had wanted to hear, because despite his promises to make peace with Jafar, he still deeply loathed him and too, wanted Jasmine to feel alike.

 

But as the minutes in a select few grouping waltzed on, Aladdin could see it was quite the opposite of what he had been hoping.

 

That, in fact, in his eyes one of the people he cared for most had begun to possibly care for the man he hated most. And there was nothing more crushing than a realization such as that…

 

“Wait...what actually happened?” Asked Aladdin, fear accenting every vowel. Jasmine felt tears brimming in her eyes.

 

Not only did she have to work up any sliver of courage to speak about her feelings to Jafar, she’d also have to do it with her one of her best friends in the entire world. What a night this was…

 

“I…I’m…” Jasmine trailed, her voice catching in almost a rhyming manner with the clouding tears in her eyes. “...It’s difficult to come to terms with. Perhaps it’s one of the most difficult realizations I’ve had to accept, and I barely even do that much.”

 

“But Jasmine…” Aladdin trailed, desperation causing his voice to rise ever so slightly, allowing for stone cold Northlander gazes to snap in their direction. “...are you saying you have feelings...or even love Jafar?”

 

“I don’t know if it’s love, I just know that something inside me…”

 

His eyes widened slightly and she knew the words themselves were approaching.

 

“...Has come to adore him, in more ways than just one…” Jasmine blurted out. A tower simply could have collapsed, yet it could not even elicit the amount of sheer terror and shock that Aladdin’s expression displayed.

 

“Y-you what?”

 

Could she had not been clear enough?

 

“I have feelings for him! There I said it! Could I have not been anymore clear?” Jasmine exclaimed, her cheeks flaring as much as her temper. 

 

Aladdin paused, his lips parting as words struggled to exit. It was astounding how within only minutes the conversation between them had changed completely. 

 

“...You have feelings for him? For Jafar, of all people?” Aladdin repeated incredulously. More heads began to turn and Jasmine had to pinch her husband from saying another word. Wiping two stray tears away, Jasmine collected herself to whisper once more. 

 

“I can’t help what...I feel. You don’t approve whatsoever-”

 

“You’re right, I don’t!”

 

“But hear me out…” Jasmine continued, ignoring Aladdin’s grimacing. “I still had feelings for you, even though you lied to me over and over again. I gave you chances when I realized what your intentions were!”

 

“But...but it’s Jafar!” Aladdin whined angrily. “I understand possible trust, but love?”

 

“I never said it was love!”

 

“But it will be. And if not then, it probably is now!” Aladdin protested. Jasmine shook her head and kneaded her temple. “Just trust me, please!”

 

“I just can’t understand why, Jasmine. That’s what’s hard for me!”

 

“I’m not asking you to understand, but just to listen and hear what I had to say. It’s hard enough not being able to tell Jafar himself!”

 

Aladdin paused, seemingly confused now. As Jasmine could feel her breathing and clouded eyesight simmering to normal, she could see that Aladdin had slightly calmed as well.

 

“Then why did he leave? Because you couldn’t tell him?”

 

Jasmine bit her lip and folded the tablecloth between her fingers. “Perhaps he realized I couldn’t, and thinks of me as a coward or…”

 

“Then if he thinks of you as a coward, why waste your love on him?” Aladdin pressured, but Jasmine shook her head.

 

“Because I rightly have been a coward about my feelings, about a lot of things that I presumed about him. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him, I don’t deserve it…” Jasmine trailed grudgingly.

 

Aladdin shook his head and had now leaned in closer to her. “You do deserve it. But if Jafar can’t love you the way you want to be loved, then fuck him. I mean it…”

 

Jasmine slightly smiled at his quip, yet sadness still beheld the Sultana. “Jafar does love me, I know that much. Maybe one day, I’ll see myself telling him my feelings as well.”

 

Aladdin cocked a brow, and after a few hard minutes of thinking, he turned back to her. “That day is going to be today, hate to break it to you.” He then arose and took her hand, causing heads to snap in their direction.

 

Jasmine’s eyes now widened and she shook her head in a steady crescendo. “Aladdin...I’m not sure right now is the time,” she muttered.

 

“If you keep telling yourself that, it never will be,” he remarked.

 

She furrowed her brow, feeling self conscious by the stares themselves. “But why? Why do you want me to tell him?”

 

Aladdin’s smile faded and he became much more solemn. “I loathe Jafar, more than anyone. And hell, I don’t want you to do this more than anyone. And despite my agreement to try to remain civil and my distaste, I still need to let you live your life.”

 

Jasmine understood him, something she had been guilty of far longer than a day which was of him.

 

“You deserve something for once. Something for yourself, and maybe it just somehow clicked right now,” Aladdin admitted sheepishly, and she realized it had been her words that bit him in understanding only moments prior, even if they were simply words. 

 

And this was simply a quick moment.

 

“You will find him. Just trust me, you will,” Aladdin smirked, and Jasmine could remember the thought of the first time he took her along the carpet in the magnetic Arabian night. She cocked an eyebrow and smiled amidst her trembling of heads bolting towards her.

 

“You know I do, but now isn’t the time-”

 

Taking her hand, he lead her away from the table with startled mumbles following them like a wretched trail. “Aladdin!” She protested, but it was to no avail. He dragged her through the doors while music and dancing surrounded their escape like a mask to avoid the Czar’s gaze. Jasmine practically felt herself running to keep up with Aladdin’s march, and finally they entered the hallway of complete darkness, alone.

 

“Why now?” Jasmine huffed, catching her breath. “We couldn’t have waited at least?”

 

“Would you rather sit and drown yourself in wine while that atrocious dance continues, or go find someone who you care about?”

 

Now, something began to settle within the Sultana. Another realization, of why Aladdin had suddenly snapped sides in the midst of their conversation: His own guilt had been propelling him, for abandoning her for so many times in the past.

 

“...Thank you, Aladdin,” she responded earnestly, her eyes with great sorrow yet kindness. He truly did care for her, that much she could gather, despite her feelings for Jafar. He now turned away and was about to skid away from her until Jasmine stopped him.

 

“-And I do forgive you, for what happened…” Jasmine told him, her eyes shining as well as his. His sly smile melted into a softer, thankful one. Hearing words that he must have dearly wanted, or needed, gave him such a smile she surely had not seen in a long while.

 

“No problem,” he nodded, his voice as quiet as his eyes seemed to be. 

 

With that, Aladdin turned and headed back into the celebration, most likely fabricating some lie that the Sultana had fallen ill, before prancing off with young guests who had caught his eye.

 

She chuckled as she walked, yet now a pit of nervousness settle and began to grow like a seed. 

 

Could she go through with this?

 

Could she really?

 

Truly?

 

Aladdin had faith in her, but did she have faith in herself?

 

She constantly felt like her mind could change a thousand times before she finally found Jafar, but in the split second of hope she found herself in, she decided that she would. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

It wasn’t the halls or the chambers that she had searched first, as all had either been dimmed or locked. As she had found the common room empty, it wasn’t hard then to conclude where Jafar in fact was. 

 

Some place that made her gasp at the thought of, that made her writhe uncomfortably at the name, a place which brought make not so seldom memories and played deviously with her memories.

 

A place which he’d be sure she’d not follow.

 

A place of darkness and cold that he could withstand in his solemn immortality: the garden.

 

Now, this was truly when Jasmine had debated on whether or not she was to tell him.

 

It was the fucking garden, for crying out loud!

 

He didn’t want to be found, that was also the constant pull on the other side of her retreating push.

 

He was afraid of what she had to say, or heartbroken that she could hardly say it at all. It was understandably so, as she had avoided Aladdin’s true revelation the night he was late for their anniversary feast.

 

And yet, perhaps if she could manage to come close enough to him, he could meet her halfway. 

 

Perhaps that would be the most suitable idea, for both of them equally, as neither would be afraid which was an excellent start in itself.

 

But first, she had to dress; as a blizzard was twisting through the land that night, making it nearly impossible for anything to be seen a mile ahead. 

 

Heading towards her chambers, she contemplated on what she even was to tell him, and that now was the chance to form something clearer than before. 

 

Perhaps she could say that she felt something different from him now? No, that would be far too vague and not quite bold enough. 

 

Certainly she couldn’t say she was in love, for she still denied that she was. Despite how desperately he would want to hear those words from her…

 

Throwing on her simplistically boring blue coats and slipping off the delicate slippers for boots, she eyed the halls as to make sure no guard was peaking.

 

She had been gone for quite a time, and if Aladdin hadn’t lied already, they could be searching for her. Nonetheless, even though he had lied, the Czar’s would immediately send healers and nurses to tend to her, and she’d never be able to escape them.

 

Trudging quickly from the slightest close of her door, she walked towards the stairwell that led, after six stories, to the entrance of the palace. 

 

“You must think…” muttered the Sultana to herself worriedly. “...what are you going to say to him? What will make him understand? What will make you understand as well?” 

 

She still could not place a finger on it, and her heart’s rising tempo increased with every step and every miscalculated idea that snuck into her brain. “What if by now...he’s stopped loving me? What if I broke his heart completely, and he’d like nothing to do with me?”

 

As much as she figured that to be nonsense, every typical worry struck her as she exited the palace and into the wintry hell of Northland winter. She could see formidably enough in front of her to exit into the square’s streets, feeling snow strike her cheeks and draw tears from her eyes. Hell, she’d probably collapse from the cold before she’d manage to tell Jafar her feelings. 

 

“Fuck the cold,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “He will hear me.”

 

Her eyes blurred as flakes caught in the lashes, yet she could see the path that descended into the wretched garden.

 

“Just a little more…” she growled.

 

Closer…

 

Closer…

 

Closer…

 

And here it was.

 

Now she stood before the overlapping pine entrance to the abandoned gardens, where now no light was hardly visible aside from the fire of a nearby cottage not too far away. Jasmine shuddered and rubbed her eyes. “Jafar!” She demanded sternly.

 

No answer, the wind possibly cloaked over her voice.

 

“Jafar!” She screamed again, hearing the wind howl mercilessly against her call.

 

She let out a grunt in frustration, gripping her gloves and calling again. “Jafar!”

 

“Sultana, you can stop yelling. I can hear you,” his voice remarked cockily, and annoyingly enough, he hardly had to raise his voice to a scratchy squawk in order for her to hear. Yet, as of now, that mattered less.

 

Jasmine could see that, despite the weather, he had glistening eyes and a bitter, yet sorrowful scowl across his lips. He was in anguish, and despite the sarcasm in his tone, even a child could understand the hurt he felt. His fists were clenched as if he were paralyzed against the blowing snow, which would’ve been quite impossible consider who he was. No, he was standing so inexplicably still because of her. And he didn’t seem quite that eager to approach more than five feet to greet her from the garden’s entrance. 

 

“I need to talk to you!” She whispered, tears falling because of a far different reason now.

 

“Is that so? Shall I pull up a chair and wait this time?” He remarked bitterly, his eyes nearly slits in hurt disappointment. 

 

“Jafar, please! I’m sorry!” She cried, but he turned away now, his fists clenching perhaps even harder at her words.

 

“For what? That you think so low of me you can’t even form a comprehensible sentence? Or was it to embarrass me, perhaps?” Jafar spat, and Jasmine shook her head against the cold air.

 

“If you would please, come to me and I can tell you. I’ll tell you everything! I swear!”

 

“You swear? Swear what? You don’t owe anything to me, especially not anymore. Can’t you just leave me be?” He exclaimed.

 

Jasmine’s blood began to boil, and she could not prevent the words that followed.

 

“Jafar, I am your Sultana! You will come to me this instant!” She barked, and to her surprise, Jafar turned around.

 

Yet now, she could make out the faintest, most bitter sneer she could see from that mask of his. “As my lady wishes…” he added cockily, took slow strides towards her as she shivered and shuddered. As he approached, his face darkened with annoyance accented his deep brown eyes, and even amidst the darkness she could see him clouded with shining tears.

 

Jasmine pursed her lips and stroked two tears away from her face. Jafar watched her intently, and despite his anger, hope shone through even in the tiniest of cracks of his mask.

 

“...I hated you at first. Truly, I did. But now, as we’ve been stuck here together, I’ve realized that…” she trailed, her eyes struggling to continuously meet his. 

 

Here we go…

 

“...I’ve realized that maybe we aren’t so different. And that we’re probably the only two people who truly understand each other anymore. And I’m thankful for that.” Jasmine told him, amazed along with him at how the words flowed out smoothly. She hardly even thought what the words she was saying meant even to her, but for some odd and invigorating reason, she could understand that they were nonetheless entirely true.

 

“And understanding that as well, you’ve become someone so...important to me. Someone I understand that I care so deeply for. And in no way was I truly trying to embarrass you or make you feel foolish, since that even I was struggling to put into words how I could feel. I hardly even can, as I still don’t know for sure…” Jasmine trailed, and his expression remained unwavering, yet his eyes softened in even the slightest notion.

 

Keep going!

 

“It’s hard to understand at all, and I know you hardly do either…” she trailed as she approached him closer. “But just know that-that I need you...w-with me,” Jasmine stuttered, tears scarring her voice into something deeply aching.

 

Jafar furrowed his brow, his mouth twitched ever so slightly, like he was debating whether or not he was to cry or panic. “...For what?” He demanded, his voice shaking now, in great hope and in great fear.

 

Jasmine took a breath and looked him straight in the eye, and she swore that everyone in the entire damn country held it as well.

 

Here it is.

 

“For good,” she replied, her voice clearer than ever and not even the cold could temper it. And without thinking in reason, with the motion of angelic relief that passed through her head like bells and joy, she did what she had finally wanted...and needed to do...for quite some time now.

 

Sultana Jasmine met Jafar’s lips with _hers_. 

 

Her head was swirling in the midst of the kiss, but it felt as if a spark of electricity had been sent through the both of them, something so incredibly raw and so incredibly powerful.

 

It was as if warmth had shot through her veins and pumped vigorously through her blood, allowing her to fasten her arms around his head and pull him towards her. She felt like laughing, or singing at the sensation that wrapped and soared through her body like ribbons of joy. Their lips had met, she wanted to sing to the heavens, to her kingdom, to even fucking Mot himself. 

 

They had kissed!

 

They truly did!

 

And though she pulled away, she could see that Jafar was absolutely terrified. He was unmoving, out of breath, feeble and horrified. Tears maddeningly stroked down his cheeks as he couldn’t form one comprehensible word, but that mattered not to her. She could see he was questioning reality, if Jasmine herself was real or not.

 

But, gods be damned, she’d prove it to him.

 

She’d prove herself to be real enough. 

 

Before she could think of her actions, she already crashed her lips to his, and this time he wrapped his arms around her in the tightest embrace. Now, he had met her lips back in the hungry call both needed each other to satisfy. He held her so tightly Jasmine swore that not even Allah himself could pry him apart from her.

 

He couldn’t seem to tempt the thought of letting her go sooner; however, as the passionate kiss continued. In between breaths, she felt tears sting her cheeks as well as his, as this moment was truly unlike any other. She felt that she couldn’t let him go, that if she did, he’d disappear from her grasp the way he feared she would. This felt unreal, now as their lips met again, and she could hardly begin to understand if this were reality or a dream. Yet if it was such a cruel dream, she’d damn the world if she were to wake.

 

This was hers and his. Their own paradise within that god-trembling moment.

 

This was their perfection.

 

After the angelic and choral moment subsided, they broke away to stare adoringly at each other’s eyes. Jasmine swore she had never felt more joyous than this in her entire life, and the same went for him. She cursed the moment she was at a loss for words earlier, as now it could never hold a candle to this. 

 

Caressing her jaw, Jafar lovingly eyed her lips and eyes, then proceeding to press small kisses to her temple and cheeks, brushing the tears away as he did. Jasmine smiled and joyous laughter erupted from her, and she pulled him in for one more, momentous last kiss that they both had craved and religiously desired. 

 

And yet, something so terrifying broke them apart in horror. A devious and cruel twist from the gods, especially one in particular, and she wanted to scream in rage but as well as horror. A sound, something spine-chilling, erupted from the palace ahead, screams following the snowy winds like devilish sonata.

 

No…

 

No…

 

No…

 

No! Not now! Please not now! This couldn’t be happening! Certainly, it couldn’t!

 

And yet, it was undeniable, as Jafar clutched her now more tightly in his arms, Jasmine understood one, morbidly terrifying thing:

 

Shirabad had attacked the Northlands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so my phones ab to die so i’ll make this quick! this chapter really speaks for itself, but i’m sorry it’s so behind! i’m on vacation rn, but i finally was able to post and finish! anyways, i hope you enjoyed THAT ending and i apologize for broken english! thanks for reading!!! :3


	16. You Are Mine, And I Am Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine and Jafar deal with the escape from the Northlands after Shirabad attacks. Yet even after that, something far more terrifying for the two arises only the day after.

Jasmine stood in horror, feeling Jafar’s grip even tighten around her shuddering body. To the sight that beheld her was of something most horrible, possibly the worst she had ever seen. Anger and tears made up for the silent scream that rippled through her mouth agape. 

 

The palace itself was a horrifying and sickening fire-glow from the midst of the hurling storm, and Jasmine struggled to break free as she wailed now. Her eyes stung more now and her cheeks’ pain was incomprehensible now to the pain of her throat and chest.

 

And though she was feral, or possibly mad, she was animalistic now: Ready to rip apart the throats of Shirabad’s soldiers one by one if she could get her hands on them. She was ready, as all former feelings of adoration from her kiss with Jafar now melted away into feral anger.

 

Aladdin was in there!

 

The guests!

 

Innocent people are dead!

 

“Let me go!” Jasmine thrashed, her voice though hoarse producing the sound of a wild beast practically. “Jasmine,” Jafar whispered, trying his best to calm her as his strength was far greater than hers. “Jasmine, please. We need to get you away from here, now!”

 

“No! Jafar, let me go!” She screamed, turning to him and trying to pry his arms in a fit of hopeful fury. “I need to go help them! I need to go to Aladdin!” 

 

As much as she kicked and thrashed, he wasn’t easing. He firmly held her, and due to her nonconsent to walk, she was practically lifted from the snowy ground as he began to walk along the edges of the cobblestone path. “No, Jafar! Where are you taking me? Release me this instant! They need help!”

 

He didn’t answer, which only infuriated her more. She forced herself to look away and toward the burning palace, screaming echoing against the buildings in a hellish crescendo as they approached. She could hear guards marching out from every corner, beckoning and ordering people to stay inside, as if that was going to solve anything. 

 

“Guards!” Jafar ordered in the midst of the panic and screaming. Jasmine whirled over to him and could see through her clouded tears exactly what he was doing. “Take the Sultana to the ships and keep her there! Make sure that it is by your last breath she will remain alive!” 

 

“No, I’m not! He doesn’t speak for me!” Jasmine wailed, and Jafar shot her a look of pure agony. One of the guards shifted in uncertainty, and they were about to protest until another explosion sounded and was followed by screams of absolute terror. Jasmine watched in horror as the explosion came from one of the palace towers; which had collapsed from a siege tower’s impact. 

 

“You will take her carefully and safely, if you so value the life you live!” Jafar barked in menace. The guards, though deeply conflicted, were sadly more terrified of Jafar’s anger than Jasmine’s. They grabbed her arms as Jasmine thrashed again. “No! Unhand me! Jafar!” She cried, and he caressed her face in solemnity and pity. “It’s too reckless for you inside there. I will get Aladdin, I promise you,” he swore to her, and despite her best efforts to believe his words, the man she cared for most, she put more faith into herself than she did him in that moment.

 

It was as if the air around them slowed again, every ember or snowflake moved at a pace too slow for her to recognize. Even the stroke of her own tears against her cheeks couldn’t match the furious pound of her heart against her temple. 

 

Jasmine stared at him, looking into his eyes for the first moment after their kiss. He was worried, terrified, just as he was in that moment as well. Even the touch he placed on her cheeks had an unfamiliar grace of panic, despite his best attempts to comfort her.

 

“I’m not willing to lose you,” he told her in such a deep, dark voice full of sorrow it nearly elicited gooseflesh across her skin.

 

Jasmine offered a smile, a minuscal, harshly horrified one. “You won’t.” She replied, her voice unfamiliar to even herself, that it would take an imbecile to understand what she was about to do.

 

Twisting the guards arms and lurching forward, she heard them shout in pain as she finally broke free from their grasp. “No!” Jafar exclaimed in anger and terror, but it was now too late. Jasmine had sped away, running towards a tower door that was nearest to her.

 

She was free, and she could hear footsteps following closely behind her in a maddening panic. “Stop her! Please, Jasmine!” She heard Jafar order in sheer, maddening horror. 

 

Jasmine understood the risk, she understood full well. But this attack was because of her, because of Jafar. And she wouldn’t, she couldn’t, stay silent and tucked away while people burned again. She swore by her living breath that she wouldn’t. 

 

Yanking the door with a loud grunt, she slipped into the tower and dashed up the stairs, her mind throbbing as smoke began to caress her skin. The sound of the guard’s footsteps were drowned out behind the roaring flames that licked the sides of the tower. Jasmine threw off her coat in a fit of rage as she ran while the air grew hotter and hotter.

 

But she knew this tower and where it led; the same damned hall that she walked down many times before in the cold, colorless days.

 

“Aladdin? Aladdin!” Jasmine screamed and she pushed down the lodged wooden door, the roaring fire deeming her words too low to be heard. 

 

“Aladdin!” She called again, her throat mimicking sounds like a wounded faun. “Aladdin!” Jasmine screamed again desperately.

 

A wooden door collapsed on the side of her, and she nearly scrambled in time to avoid having her arm severed by the sharp, bristled wood. Yet, it did not fall without scraping her at all, as of now a searing, gaping wound was produced by the sharp edges of the wood.

 

She yelled in pain while blood stroked her arm, sweat stinging her eyes as well as tears of absolute pain and terror. Her heart pounded even more furiously with a warning from her limbs that they couldn’t trudge anymore. 

 

But she’d push, she’d push until she was dead she decided. She wasn’t going down without trying at least, to help anyone she could, especially Aladdin.

 

“Aladdin!” Jasmine screamed, as loudly as she could, wandering the halls while she hobbled in an attempt to run. 

 

The winding corridors grew more and more confusing, and she was certain by now of one thing in her swirling mind that she was indefinitely lost. 

 

Dizziness began to settle while she coughed in the clouding black smoke, nearing another cannonball that had freshly impaled none other than her own room. 

 

Another sudden thought entered her mind, and she felt her throat dry in another spout of terror.

 

“The lamp,” she muttered in horror. Her eyes skimmed the broken door of her chambers, and blood pounded in her ears. “The lamp!”

 

Pushing frantically at the door, it seemed as if from a purposeful invade that it was lodged. She could feel her stomach jolt in sickening terror and she screamed in fear. “No, no, no!”

 

“The lamp is gone, Sultana,” a slick voice rang through the hall.

 

Not you!

 

Jasmine whirled her head to see the bastard the donned the title of a god, and she gritted her feet in anger. “You…! You’re lying!” Jasmine exclaimed, still pushing at the door. He had to be, he had to!

 

“There’s no use of trying, girl! Aladdin is dead, as well are you!” Another beastly versión of the god appeared beside her, and she could feel his cold grasp settle on her shoulder. Fighting the urge to punch the god’s very face, she only kept trying at the unresponsive door. 

 

“You’re...lying!” She cried.

 

“Your love will die soon enough, and you were weak enough to love that man and will now pay greatly, for the destruction of your kingdom shall come!”

 

“No!” Jasmine fired back, prying the door open as much as she could.

 

Peeking inside her room that was aflame, she could see the lamp itself, waiting on the shelf where she had last laid it. 

 

But her victory was short lived, as hands wrapped around her neck and began to squeeze the already feeble breath from her throat. 

 

“You will die here, as well as the lamp!” Mot cackled as the ghostly hands pressed harder.

 

Her vision blurred in numerous, sickening colors. Her head throbbed and she stifled a cry amidst the spot and smoke that built up in her lungs.

 

A door swung open from behind her and Mot let out a dark, chilling sneer. Loosening his grip, Jasmine collapsed to the ground and her sight began to blacken.

 

Her world was spinning and she could make out the slightest picture of Jafar himself, surrounded by guards, their voices dropping to low, incomprehensible frequencies as the world itself dipped maddeningly…

 

Colors…

 

Lights…

 

Jafar…

 

Black.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Sounds…

 

Head aching…

 

Mumbling…

 

White lights…

 

Bang.

 

Jasmine’s eyes flicked open to a room of cool, dark fixations with winding blurs of white objects passing by. Her head throbbed in immense pain, causing her to grimace and squeeze her eyes shut.

 

Her stomach lurched in pain, and she struggled to keep the bile in her throat down as much as she could. Her limbs were numb and her head began to rock, signs that she had been heavily nursed and sedated.

 

Her eyes flicked open again, much more awake and jittering this time around.

 

Where was she?

 

Where was Jafar?

 

Or Aladdin?

 

Jasmine groaned and whimpered, and a white object that now grew into a vision of a nurse came to her aid. She had red tucked hair and a white gown that folded over her voluptuous figure. She seemed young, yet what could’ve been a happy face seemed sorrowful and vengeful. “Look who’s awake…” the nurse mumbled darkly. 

 

The Sultana tried to turn her head, yet it was as if every muscle was then pricked by a needle. “Wh...where’s my husband?” Jasmine croaked hoarsely, and the nurse turned her head toward the door.

 

“He hasn’t left, I assure you. He stayed all night after we got you into the boat,” replied the nurse, and that’s when every single piece of memory about the fortnight settled in.

 

The palace was in ruins.

 

Shirabad attacked.

 

The lamp.

 

Aladdin.

 

Jasmine felt tears begin to sting her eyes as the nurse then called for Jafar to enter. Immediately he came through the door, and she never saw him so incredibly sorrowful before. His eyes had been worn and sickeningly red from crying it seemed, yet his jaw and expression only seemed solemn. 

 

“She wanted you in here,” the nurse murmured, but Jafar’s eyes remained locked on Jasmine’s.

 

“I’ll leave you two alone…” she trailed and marched out the door with it slamming behind her. The Sultana could understand, even in her state, that the Northlanders must’ve hated her even more for the war was brought to their city.

 

Swallowing hard, Jasmine’s eyes dropped. “I’m sorry…” she whispered, her voice still hoarse. Jafar didn’t answer, but only sat down quietly beside her. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, her eyes prickling with tears once again. 

 

They remained in a quiet moment, the tension a concoction of grief, anger, sorrow, and even relief. Jasmine felt gravely ashamed, knowing how little her efforts did and how deeply they affected Jafar. But, despite everything, she saw the lamp. And hopefully, even in the slightest she had left of hope, the guards had found it as well.

 

“I almost lost you,” Jafar darkly replied in the midst of the silence. 

 

Jasmine looked toward him, and his eyes glittered in the dim, white light. “I promised you that you wouldn’t,” Jasmine whispered, shaking her head.

 

“But you can’t promise something like that. You could’ve gotten killed,” Jafar reprimanded her, his poised and strong voice breaking in the last sentence. “It was too reckless, Sultana.”

 

Jasmine nodded, her throat building up a desperate cry in pain. “I just wanted to help anyone I could, but it was stupid. I’m stupid.”

 

Jafar’s eyes darkened. “You’re not. You never were.”

 

Jasmine shook her head and tears spilled even heavier now. “What happened to Aladdin? Is he hurt?”

 

Jafar’s eyes wandered from her to the window of the ship they were in. “He’s recovering, he asked about you as well.”

 

Relief filled Jasmine and she wanted so badly to see him as well. The Sultana smiled as much as she could through her grimacing, and she slowly reached out to place her hand on Jafar’s.

 

“You and him safe is all that matters right now,” she whispered, and Jafar’s eyes softened. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to it. She could feel her spine shudder and her stomach twist all the same, desiring of all things to pull him into a deep, passionate kiss that would last forever if she could will it. 

 

But her warm feelings of adoration faded, and she frowned deeply. “Where’s the lamp?”

 

Jafar smiled slightly now. “You’re smarter than most, Jasmine. I knew what you were after in that room of yours when you pried the door open.”

 

Relief settled once again, and she smiled lightly. “I’m overjoyed that my husband is especially safe as well…” she whispered, and his eyes skimmed her in ever-growing love. 

 

His hand dropped from hers to stroke her chin, and leaned to place a sweet, soft kiss on her lips. She savored it and the intoxicating taste of him, placing the memory into a small, protected box and treasuring it in her mind. 

 

She lifted her hand to feel the soft skin of his warm cheek against her cold, feeble hands. He leaned his temple against hers, sharing the amorous air between them in warm adoration.

 

“Thank you for saving me,” Jasmine whispered now, and smiled. “I’d do it again. Any day, every day,” he swore to her.

 

And Jasmine knew to believe him, this man she was unknowingly but undoubtedly falling in love with. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Jasmine has remained in the bed for the rest of the day, daydreaming and wondering blissfully about the new chapter of her and Jafar’s relationship. She spent hours thinking about him, even as the day traveled into the birth of night, where she decided sleeping wasn’t of any priority at the moment.

 

The moonlight shone through the whistle of the sea breeze from the window, and the peace left her alone with her beautifully romantic thoughts. 

 

She felt like that of a young girl again, the new blossoming feelings warmed her despite the coldness of the room itself.

 

He was hers now, and she was his. It was such a special, beautiful feeling. She certainly couldn’t remember the last time she had exactly felt this way either.

 

It had only been a day, yet it felt so incredibly right that it was as if the premonition had been present for thousands of years. Something so true, and she couldn’t think of anything more.

 

And yet, with that realization, Jasmine couldn’t help but worry.

 

He would outlive her, and she couldn’t wish away his power for him to become human.

 

She couldn’t wish for immortality, since the thought of herself outliving everyone else she cared about sickened her as well.

 

And she couldn’t wish to become like him, as then the process of keeping them both out of the hands of Mot’s devious servants or other greedy miscreants was too risky of a challenge.

 

So what was the Sultana to do? Plan for a forever that was never going to arrive? Or accept that she must lose him at a point in her life?

 

It was a trialing choice to make, one she wasn’t sure she was in fact ready to think about, yet it plagued her and whispered soft, devious reminders in her ear when she was vulnerable. 

 

But perhaps, she could at least think of the now, and the feelings the lovers both held for each other was stronger than ever at the moment.

 

And she certainly wasn’t going to deny the other wandering thought that filled her mind about Jafar.

 

His voice.

 

His touch.

 

His kiss.

 

All thoughts of pooling pleasure swimmer in her mind, braving the waves while her own fingers itched to fulfill a drowning desire in regions she hadn’t explored in a long time.

 

‘He would kiss me, lay his lips across my skin. He would undress me, and I’d do the same for him. Our bodies entwining, our lips meeting-’

 

And yet then, her lustful thoughts were interrupted as embarrassment settled in. Here she was, pleasing herself with the lustful thoughts of intimacy while Aladdin laid in a bed wounded and millions of innocents were killed just the last night.

 

She swore to herself it wasn’t her fault, she knew that with common sense it truly wasn’t. But just simply because it wasn’t didn’t mean that Mot’s fault wasn’t because of her. She was the motive of his evil, but she could not hide from him. It was only a matter of time, yet it still pained her nonetheless…

 

The Czar was most likely dead or gravely wounded.

 

Half at least of the Northland’s troops and naval systems had been obliterated.

 

And most horrifying of all, Shirabad had most likely taken over the country itself if not now then in the next couple of days. 

 

Meaning that the Scanlands were Jasmine’s last hope if she couldn’t think of another wish that wouldn’t have a devious catch to it as well. And there always seemed to be a devilish catch to the largest of wishes…

 

Perhaps she could wish for Mot’s destruction? Yet then wouldn’t his servants rise to his aid in vengeance?

 

She could wish away the existence of the supernatural in itself, yet Jafar would also qualify…

 

“Or,” Jasmine murmured. “If there was a way to find a loop, could it possibly be to not wish away anything, but to wish for something?”

 

Yet, what would be that something? What could appease both the physical, mental, and spiritual realms of the universe that all tried to maneuver her choices like a dead end at every path. 

 

Possibly...something that would require Jafar to survive, as well as the innocents of the world, but he’d survive as something else completely…

 

Jasmine’s eyes widened as she repeated the words aloud. “Something else completely-”

 

The door opened, and Jasmine immediately whirled her head to see none other than the man himself. 

 

“Jafar,” Jasmine whispered, her eyes softening. His expression was solemn yet at ease, and he stared at her unblinkingly. 

 

“I heard you talking. It’s the dead of night, Sultana,” he muttered, a twinge of his lips into a smile melting his expression into a fond gaze. “You need to sleep…”

 

Jasmine propped herself against the rickety bed to look at him far more clearly. “People are dead because of this constant chase. How long are we going to run, you and I?”

 

Jafar’s eyes twinkled and he whispered softly. “As long as we can.”

 

She shook her head. “No, we can’t. I need to consider my last wish.”

 

Now then the air had shifted.

 

His smile faded now, and he lowered his gaze away from hers in impending sorrow. “...And then I go back into the lamp, to be shielded and never let out again.”

 

“There’s another way for that, I know it. But sacrifices have to be made for us,” Jasmine whispered, and Jafar’s eyes widened and he turned from her, gripping his cloak. 

 

“I don’t want us to be apart, if that’s what you’re implying,” he muttered through gritted teeth. She felt her stomach drop in terror, knowing very well how much more difficult it would be to make such a horrifying wish that she was concocting. 

 

“It doesn’t have to be right away, Jafar. But I’ve been thinking about what it is that I’m going to wish for-”

 

“Can we please wait to declare it until you wish to make it, then?” Jafar interrupted her, his voice rising but not in anger, yet instead in riveting and perilous fear. He had turned to her now, and his eyes glistened under the crisp light of the midnight moon.

 

Jasmine watched him in a moment that both held their gazed in a sorrowful yet loving cradle. He watched her in deep sadness, slowly stepping toward her to kneel while still refusing to meet her eye. She saw how broken he was in that moment from those words, as it was as if she took his guarded, deepest fear and cracked it with a pickaxe. 

 

Their time was now, even if for only a little while. It was now, and she’d make the most of it for him and for herself. He loved her, he had loved her, for the longest of time. He had lost his lust for power from his love, and the thought of losing her in spite of everything meant that his whole existence would shatter completely. She had only realized that she was his everything in that moment, even if he could never truly admit it completely either.

 

She reached a hand to place on his shoulder from where he knelt, easing him toward her. His eyes flicked to hers, and swirling emotions within them nearly hypnotized her. 

 

“You aren’t leverage, I will never think of you as such. You are mine, and I am yours. And our time is now. It will always be that way, do you understand?” Jasmine whispered, watching him carefully with her own brown eyes wide. 

 

Jafar had froze at the words, as he did when she had first placed the momentous kiss they had only shared just the night before.

 

His lips parted as he was at a loss for words, raising his hand to tuck a wavy strand of raven black hair behind her ear. His touch caused gooseflesh to erupt all along her arms, prompting her to now pull him into a fiercely passionate kiss. 

 

His hand intertwined in her hair as he kissed her back in the passion’s response, and Jasmine repressed the desire to pull him from the kneel onto her bed in a fit of hunger.

 

Instead, in the midst of the kiss, there was something so terrifyingly clear to the both of them. Something that, despite declaring for the moment, it only haunted them further…

 

...that the time of the two lovers was _never_ going to be forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okaaaaaay so it’s a lil shorter than usual, but i think i’ve gotten my pacing back which is great! anyways, the ending is supposed to be what they are feeling in the moment, it may hint at something and it may not! just have to wait and see for these two!! nonetheless, i apologize for broken english and i hope y’all enjoy the chapter! :)


	17. Star-Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to chaotically consume Jasmine as she battles with her feelings and the ever-looming tick of the clock on her and Jafar’s relationship.

It was the next day that Jasmine awoke free of her confinement to the healing room. More than eager to leave the rickety, coarsest knit bed, she hopped out of the bed, the last memory of the night before being Jafar’s lips on hers while she drifted into a heavy sleep. 

 

Licking her lips as if to savor any slight taste that remained of the moment, she wistfully smiled, preferring to think of a fantasy where they’d have a bed of their own, happily married, back in Agrabah with the comfort of old years. 

 

Of course, it wasn’t that simple, but such a sweet fantasy was all she allowed inside her mind. It was early morning, she didn’t feel like pondering about the tragedies that plagued her just so soon. The most specific tragedy, that is, of her newest revelation about a wish that would have to be made quite soon.

 

A wish that would save everyone, yet take him away from her arms.

 

She was sure he was smart enough to realize what she implied, which was why he preferred to cast a shadow on that memory before bringing it to light sooner or later. 

 

And with that, was the plan already set in motion? No, it would be too simple for her. She would struggle, she knew that much. So was the challenge now not between Mot against her, but herself against her own will? No, Mot was very much still a threat. She just had two as of now. It wasn’t her fault whichever choice she was to make, dealing with the two pathways.

 

But it would always haunt her, she reviewed.

 

These same thoughts replaying in her mind like an orchestra from a tired conductor. Which now led her back to the top spoke of the wheel, the one she preferred to stay on for as long as she could make the most of: her time with Jafar before it was to fall. 

 

And now here she was, completely reviewed and left with swirling emotions. She cursed herself for inevitably letting the bad thoughts flood her mindspace, but it was, like she told herself, just a wheel.

 

Now she was back on the spoke she wanted to be; she had gone through the others in a matter of minutes, and they’d be back.

 

It was a chain now, with the plan: Hope, worry, conflict, and back again.

 

A continuous cycle, that’s all, as if her mind needed a constant replay.

 

So the best option in the meantime? Perhaps just ignorance. For as long as she could before the waters of doubt would propel the wheel again. And even then, she’d try, and fail. And then try again.

 

It seemed like an obvious and stable plan that wouldn’t backfire on her, right? 

 

Right?

 

She wouldn’t let that inconsistency boil over and would completely ignore the fear that had also rocked her to bed the night before, would she?

 

Would she?

 

Sighing, Jasmine unraveled the white linen rope that fascined her nurse robe and prepared to clean herself and throw on a spare corset and dress that had been stored away on the ship while preparing to exit the Northlands. It was a grey dress with an uncomfortable cotton fabric that was unpleasant to the sight and touch, causing her to wonder how dreadfully ghastly she’d appear in it as well. 

 

She walked across the cold, creaking oak wood floor to the large, faded white door that had held her entrapped. Twisting the knob, she was immediately met with the looming man who loved her dearly: Jafar.

 

“Oh!” She gasped, too startled to realize that his hand had actually been on the knob as well. “I um...good morning, Jafar,” she greeted, feeling her cheeks flush and her voice lose its stoicism. ‘With the new feelings of adoration come the new feelings of bashfulness,’ she thought begrudgingly to herself.

 

He smiled, mostly at the blush that accented her cheeks so early in the morning. He wore complete black, once again, his signature shade that provided his stature with a looming shadow. His features were calm, one who hadn’t known him long enough would see that he was bitterly stoic. But she knew him, she saw by the slight smile and the warmth in his eyes the effect she had on him, matching like a puzzle with hers most recently.

 

It was ironic how she just began to put together the pieces that he had always, in some way, gave her such a look. Whether it be a smile or not, as prominently as it was at the moment or not, it was always there.

 

And she just happened to notice, warming her even more.

 

“I heard you arise from your bed, Sultana. How are you sparing?” He asked her softly.

 

“I feel better, how is Aladdin?” Jasmine replied, immediately remembering her friend’s state. Jafar swallowed and looked at the room beside her. “He is healing. He was reportedly burned badly from the fire, helping others escape before himself.”

 

Oh.

 

Jasmine’s heart dropped and she lowered her head in guilty shame. Despite knowing that she had no part in the attack, she had left him in the palace only moments before the attack.

 

He had helped her sneak away, which very well meant she owed him her life. 

 

“It’s not your fault, Jasmine,” Jafar muttered, noticing her sadness and lifting her chin to meet his eyes softly. His eyes themselves were piteous yet loving, prompting her to thank Allah that such as man as Jafar was there in that moment. She wrapped her hand around his neck to pull him close to her, as the desperate need of comfort overcame her within that moment. 

 

“He saved me, even if he didn’t realize it as well. He’s been nothing but kind to me, and look at how he suffered from it,” Jasmine whispered, her voice breaking while Jafar rested his temple against hers. “You aren’t in debt to him, or anyone. Something unexpected as that shouldn’t be held against you, Sultana.”

 

It was ironic; his words were, of how close the lovers had gotten which resulted in her back amply resting against the wall now. “Everyone on this ship hates me, they blame me. How many more days until we are to reach the Scanlands?” 

 

Jafar’s head drew away from hers, and she was left in a state of brief, shocked yearning. “...Not long,” he muttered, a hint of bitterness barely evident in his tone. 

 

Why was he angered?

 

“...Are you displeased by that?” Jasmine asked, flabbergasted after a few moments.

 

Jafar turned his head and eyed the floor, as if all of his joy had wilted and rotted away. “You would know why I am,” he whispered. 

 

Jasmine furrowed her brow, but as she gained no response from the man she was beginning to love, she realized his plight. 

 

He saw that their time was running out, to be freely together as much as possible before the wish was to be made. It haunted him.

 

She brushed his cheek with her fingertips carefully, and his eyes flicked to hers. “I’m sorry, Jafar. We just...need to make the most of right now,” she told him in a hushed, sorrowful voice. Placing her hand on his soft, warm skin, she swore he shuddered slightly as the motion still caught him by surprise, causing a smile to arise slightly from her lips. 

 

He stared and studied her features, his lips parting slightly while he leaned closer. Wrapping both of her hands around his neck, Jasmine pulled him in with their lips meeting halfway. Yet something was strangely stronger about this kiss; as his lips against hers arose a passionate and sensual inclination inside of her. Something else began to ensue, as his arms twisted tightly around her waist while her body met the wall suddenly. 

 

Her hands traveled up the center of his neck to knead at his soft, shortly trimmed hair. This was traveling far beyond what she intended, she could sense that much. The passion, vigor, and budding lust that was building in an awful yet beautifully fast pace. But she couldn’t stop it, not quite yet. Nor did she want to…

 

Of all the things he could do to her here, all the pooling thoughts that allowed for warmth to form in her groin, she desired more than anything in that moment. She begged internally for him to pin her weakening body against the wall for all to see, and then leave her dazed and drunk with lust and pleasure once he was done. 

 

Of all the things he could do.

 

His teeth snagged her lips in a hungry tug, she released a soft whine that caused him to growl in return. Jafar’s hands started to slip down the coarse linen of her frontal thighs, and she nearly gasped at where his hands were heading. Digging her fingers into his head sharply, she shuddered as his mouth opened in response to slip his silver-tongue to meet hers. His skillful hands were nearly to her cunt, and she writhed and arched slightly as he traveled even more slowly. “Jafar…” she groaned in between heavy kisses, resisting the urge to cry out in his cruel teasing. 

 

“You’re beautiful, Sultana,” he muttered in a darkly lustful growl. “The most beautiful, magnificent woman I have ever met. I must take my time in such an exploration as this…”

 

She fought the blush that painted her cheeks, yet failed as his words struck all pleasurable cords within her. 

 

He thought she was beautiful, he wanted her as much as she wanted him, in every aspect and every truth. 

 

Sensing her shift, Jafar pulled away to stare at her tensely. “Is everything alright?” He asked, and she could see underlying terror in his eyes as if he made a horrible mistake in going too far. 

 

Jasmine smiled and pulled him closer. “You think I’m beautiful?” She asked him in a shy, bashful whisper. 

 

Jafar’s eyes lightened and he smirked. “Indescribably.”

 

Almost simultaneously, her blush and smile deepened and she pulled him back into a passionately furious kiss. The way he caressed her, the way his lips lovingly danced across hers, was something far more potent than lust could simply be. His deep love for her shown through even the briefest of kisses, or even in the most lustful of them as well.

 

“Sultana?” A voice startled them apart in the middle of their soon-to-be tryst. Pulling away only slightly from Jafar, Jasmine saw a nurse standing sheepishly from a corner of another hallway that met theirs. “I-I didn’t mean to interrupt, your grace. I was just coming to check on you-”

 

“The lady would like a bath prepared for her, if you could manage,” Jafar interrupted, his annoyance at their interruption evident. Jasmine nudged him slightly as if to downplay his briskiness, and he immediately clenched his jaw. “...Please.”

 

The nurse nodded with a nervous smile before scuttling off. Jasmine turned to him with an eyebrow cocked. “Could you have been any nicer?”

 

“I apologize, Jasmine,” he murmured earnestly, and Jasmine knew why he had been so eager in the first place: their bloody time to be together and its ill-fated hourglass which was pressing on. 

 

“I know why you wanted me...right here and now,” Jasmine responded after a moment. He turned to her incredulous. “Are you implying I wouldn’t usually?”

 

“Not at all, but I know why you were so eager now,” she whispered now. “It’s because of our time, isn’t it?”

 

Jafar’s eyes were heavy-lidded now, averting her gaze as he skimmed the floorboard. “We only have but a few more days, Jasmine. I wanted to try all that we could in that time, before we cannot.”

 

“But love isn’t something you try, it’s something you experience, Jafar,” Jasmine murmured, and he realized his mistaken choice of words were ill-suited. “My words were poor-choiced, Sultana. I didn’t mean to demean what we have.”

 

And yet then, as if a light of truth appeared between the both of them, Jafar’s brow furrowed and his eyes widened almost in sync with hers. She had said a word, they both concluded, a word that neither had ever expected before. Her lips wavered and his breath hitched, and she fumbled with her own thoughts on how to take back what she had said.

 

‘A fool, you’re a fool! You said a word that you know you don’t feel!’ She thought to herself, yet whether or not she was truthful with herself in those words remains to be seen.

 

“...Love?” Jafar whispered in a hoarse, astounded tone. Jasmine, amazed at the word that had left her mouth as well, stood agape while Jafar loosened his grip from her waist and backed away slowly. 

 

“I-I…” Jasmine stuttered, but she could see the growing hope and shock in Jafar’s eyes. Whatever she were to say now, whatever reaction she had been giving him, would affect him greatly far more than the pleasures of consummation ever could. 

 

She was panicking; her palms growing sweaty and her eyes averted his. 

 

What was she going to say?

 

No, what did she need to say? As it seemed both needed two different answers to one damnable question. 

 

“...Jafar, I-” Jasmine began, yet she was interrupted by the same nurse who had came upon them earlier.

 

“The bath is ready, Sultana.” She squeaked, much to Jafar’s anger and Jasmine’s thankfulness. It was quite ironic, she reminisced in her graciousness as she nodded and smiled at the nurse in a thank you, that the last time she was close to changing her path with Jafar she had struggled to put forth a sentence.

 

Only this time, she wasn’t dealing with forced marriage. Now, she was dealing with the forced down process she trusted upon her feelings.

 

Jasmine turned to Jafar, who despite his apparent sadness, gestured for her to follow the nurse to the bath. She couldn’t help but still feel slightly guilty, and just like her in-compliance to tell him her feelings only days ago, she found herself in the same circumstance. She turned away, a sickening knot in her stomach was forming.

 

Was this going to affect them gravely?

 

Was this a sign that she shouldn't bury such prospective things away? 

 

And, worst of all, had she truly made their time together by the hours?

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

The water had been mild, but perhaps she had been too ponderous while it was originally hot. 

 

Alone with only the simplest tapping of droplets, Jasmine thought to herself:

 

‘He wanted you to say the word. He had been worried about losing time with you, and now you’ve only made it worse. You could have just told him what he wanted to hear; but you slipped once again. So much for honesty!’

 

But that was just the predicament; Jasmine couldn’t tell him the word without saying it honestly. The time with the servants was far different, as that time around it was to lustful girls with a goal to strike them down. This? This was to Jafar, and presumably to Jafar honestly. Which made it far more difficult…

 

Jasmine stared at the water as it rippled from her movement. The silence was alarming, which allowed for those thoughts to take over her mind when she was unguarded mentally. She had scrubbed and rinsed every inch of her body, even twice over perhaps. All to avoid the silence which would either prompt her to think or prompt her to leave and face him.

 

But she couldn’t face him quite yet, despite her eagerness to not waste their time away as the nearing figure of memory towards her last wish approached. Perhaps even thinking this rashly was her prom predicament; dwelling on a mistake while time sprints away.

 

Either or, Jasmine sat continuously in the tub of chilling water, wishing dearly Aladdin’s words of strength could comfort her in this time of need. He’d tell her; however, what she’d most definitely not want to hear, and that was this: _Jasmine loved Jafar_.

 

Why couldn’t she accept that though? It wasn’t because she was denying it, but was she perhaps afraid of admitting that much to a man she was about to lose? Or was it simply that with no ticking clocks she couldn’t admit something so strong?

 

Maybe all survived within the same heartbeat, and that Jasmine was simply afraid of a monster known as required love.

 

“Maybe I am,” she sobbed quietly with her knees clutches to her chest and chin resting softly upon them. “I’m afraid and...I love him,” she declared, as if the universe and all the gods were listening. “But it doesn’t matter in the end. We’ll never have each other forever. This wish will ensure it…”

 

But should she at least tell him? Make their time last longer by doing so? Or would it allow for only more pain?

 

“He is in pain while I don’t tell him, so it’s either his or mine. And what do I have to lose, when he’s the one who will suffer in the end undoubtedly?” Jasmine muttered to herself, rising from the water to meet the briskly cold air. 

 

“I will tell him,” she murmured, feeling a spout of confidence as she dried her body with a coarse linen towel and headed for her neatly lain gown. 

 

“I will, I will,” she repeated in a crescendo. 

 

Strapping herself in her corset and throwing on the gown, she braided her hair into a simple cascade down her shoulder. 

 

Exiting out of the room, she walked down the creaking wooden halls of the ship, akin to the palace of the Northlands.

 

They stretched and twisted like veins, and she wondered to herself how large the ship actually was and how they managed to escape on one so large in a matter of time. 

 

Seeing as the man she could now admit to loving was nowhere in sight, she strode to her room instead.

 

“Jafar?” Jasmine called out, her heart pounding furiously as the weight of her declaration was crushing her little by little.

 

But there was no turning back now, no time for second-guessing again.

 

No time.

 

“Jafar!” She called again, zipping through the door. To her delight, he stood out on the balcony, facing away from her while staring at the clouded, open ocean. 

 

“Jafar,” she breathlessly said, though all the more eager to begin her point. “I-I thought a lot about what I had failed to say, and I’m going to tell you. It wasn’t that I couldn’t bring myself to say it, as it was also I wasn’t sure what I had felt. And now I do-”

 

“Sultana, we don’t have time for this,” he interrupted her angrily. 

 

What?

 

Jasmine stood, utterly shocked and the beginnings of hurt forming in her stomach. Did he no longer want to be with her? Was this the last straw, and she in fact had been too late?

 

“I’m not sure I understand-”

 

“We’re out of time.”

 

“We’ve arrived already?” Jasmine asked, approaching him now, yet he continued to ignore her questioning.

 

“No longer do you have to worry about your confession,” he added spitefully. “As it’s now too late.”

 

Jasmine felt her heart progressing even more, yet her hurt was partially replaced with worry and sorrow. “Jafar! What are you saying? What has happened?”

 

Jafar turned to her, and it had been evident how truly angry and distressed he was. His eyes were full of absolute menace and calculating worry, causing her stomach to drop. She placed her hands on his cheeks and held him tightly, to which he did not oblige yet he continued to remain emotionally distant.

 

“What’s going on?” Jasmine repeated, her voice softer yet shakier.

 

“...Someone took something from this room, and they did it with ill-intentions,” Jafar mumbled through gritted teeth while he eyed the floorboard of the balcony.

 

Jasmine furrowed her brow, and it took her a moment too long to realize.

 

A precarious moment too damnably long. 

 

Her jaw tightened and worry pooled into every thought that dared to fill her mind. She knew what he was implying, and it was the final nail into the casket that was to be their star-crossed relationship. 

 

“The lamp,” they both said in a horrifyingly dreadful sync. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so i’m sorry this is late, but despite how short it seems it had many points i needed to address that will for sure factor in with the now final plot: the final wish and their love! nonetheless, i apologize for any broken english and i hope y’all like this one! :)


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